JSA: Land Of The Thuggee
by Bruce Wayne
Summary: JSA goes to India to investigate murders committed by an ancient cult of assassins known as the Thuggees. Ch. 13 is now up! The exciting concluding chapter as the JSA take on Vandal Savage, his security force, and a human tidal wave of Thuggees.
1. Chapter 1

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Andrew Edwards waited at the corner for a tram when he felt something tug his pant cuff. He instinctively shoved a hand in his pocket to guard his wallet. New Delhi, like any other large city, has its share of thieves. Pickpockets like to work in crowds, and the streets of New Delhi are always crowded.  
  
Edwards glanced down and saw his trousers were snared on a long dark horn. He pulled away from the cow. Dull brown eyes gazed up at him. The beast lay on the sidewalk, calmly chewing its cud and shooing away flies with its tail.  
  
"Bloody brute," Edwards muttered as he examined the tear in his pants.  
  
A former sergeant major in the British Army, Andrew Edwards had seen a good deal of the world and lived among several different cultures, but none baffled him more than India. It was dreadfully overpopulated. Earth-Two India had a population of about 460 million people in 1962. They were crowded into a land area about the size of the central United States. Poverty and starvation were commonplace. Yet sacred cows still wandered about the streets, and the Hindus were horrified if anyone suggested that some of these animals be turned into unholy hamburger.  
  
Of course, the Hindus consider all life to be sacred. Edwards wondered why so many of those chaps did not seem to feel as much concerned for malnourished children and emaciated old beggers as they did for bleedin' cows and monkeys. Quality of life has never been a high priority in India. Animals are supposed to do what nature intended, and people ... well, they're supposed to concentrate on spiritual matters.  
  
Edwards had cynically noticed that the Brahman priests were at the head of the Indian caste system along with the Kshatriya aristocrats. He did not find it surprising that the Hindu religion continued to endorse the caste system that was still very much a part of India.  
  
However, Edwards did not understand the philosophy of Hinduism, which teaches that all things run in cycles. One dies and moves on to another incarnation. If one's deeds were favorable in the past life, then the laws of karma meant the soul would be reborn to a higher caste. Of one has led an evil life, he will be reincarnated to a lower caste. Thus to the Hindu the caste system is necessary for the balance of the universe and divine justice.  
  
Hinduism has little concern for science or modern technology. It teaches that even the universe must die to be periodically reincarnated in order to continue the cycle of creation. Nuclear holocaust does not frighten a pious Hindu. Indeed, it may be part of karma and his gods' incomprehensible plans.  
  
As he stood on the street corner, Edwards felt uncomfortable and crowded. The streets were jammed with people. They were underfed and clad in ragged clothing, yet most were surprisingly clean. Even the surrounding buildings seemed shoved together. The structures were shabby with tar-patched roofing and faded signs, most written in English as well as Hindi, the national language of India.  
  
The tram pulled up to the curb, and Edwards became part of the human swarm that poured into the bus. The passengers were jostled and shoved, but accepted this as a condition of overpopulation, not a result of intentional rudeness.  
  
Despite efforts to encourage birth control and reduce the burden of too many people, overpopulation remained a major problem in India. Trying to educate masses of largely illiterate poor was a formidable task, but once again, religion was the biggest factor to deal with. Hindus believed that one would shuffle to the next incarnation after death more swiftly if his children prayed for his soul. The more children who prayed for him, the better his odds of a rapid reincarnation. To a Hindu, this is both simple and practical.  
  
Edwards leaned against an open window, desperate for a breath of air that had not been recycled by dozens of other lungs. God, Edwards thought. He wanted to return to England. The London office of Agriculture International had sent Edwards to New Delhi to arrange an education program on advanced farming methods in India. Bloody waste of time. The Americans were already running such a program as part of a foreign-aid policy and the newly established Peace Corps. The Indian government might be willing to accept London's offer, if they could get everything free.  
  
In Edwards' opinion, the bloody Indian parliament wanted everything handed to it on a silver platter. They expected the governments of the West to look after them like a nation of war orphans, especially the United States and Great Britain.  
  
England had established a foothold in India in the seventeenth century, and its influence and power steadily increased during three hundred years of British rule. The maharajas who ruled the complex monarch states of the past had welcomed the British. But there was no doubt that this imperialist reign was unfair to the people of India in general, though they were probably no better off under the maharajas before the British arrived.  
  
After India gained its independence under Gandhi, the country modeled its constitution on British democracy, English law was still the basis of India's judicial system in 1962. Indian schools and military also revealed British influence. The Crown had made some positive contributions to India, but nobody cared to talk about that anymore.  
  
Two more days, Edwards thought. Then he would be on a British Airways flight back home. Thank God. Edwards gazed out the window as the tram rode through the pothole-marred streets. The city of New Delhi looked the same everywhere. Hundreds of Indians, most living in various degrees of poverty, shuffled along the sidewalks. There were a few priests dressed in robes and some blokes wearing turbans. Cows and dogs mingled with the crowds. The damn place was depressing to Edwards. New Delhi made the worst English slum look like Buckingham Palace.  
  
At last the tram stopped at the Royal Suite Hotel, and Edwards gratefully left the bus and entered the building. He got his key from the front desk and headed for the stairs. Damned if he would trust the bleedin' birdcage on a cable that the hotel called an elevator.  
  
The Briton mounted the first two flights of stairs to the third story. Edwards found the door to his room and inserted the key. He unlocked the door, eager for a lukewarm bath and a gin and tonic.  
  
As he entered the room, Edwards caught a fleeting glimpse of something moving behind the door. An object flashed over his head, and the Briton's throat was suddenly trapped by a terrible constriction that encircled his neck. Someone slammed the door as hands grasped Edwards' wrists before he could resist his attackers.  
  
There were three of them, Edwards realized. One held each arm while the third throttled him. The assailants did not give him a chance to defend himself. A foot stamped the back of his knee and threw the Briton off balance. He fell to both knees. His attackers held on and the cord at his throat continued to strangle him.  
  
Andrew Edwards was too astonished to be frightened, although he realized death was closing in rapidly. Why were these men killing him? Edwards was just a representative for an agricultural firm, not a politician or an agent for Her Majesty's Secret Service. Why ...?  
  
This question was Edwards' last conscious thought. Without ample oxygen to the brain, he blacked out.  
  
The assassins held Edwards to the floor and choked him until they were certain he was dead, then they released their victim. The strangler unwound his weapon from the dead man's neck. He untied a knot in the center of the yellow scarf and removed a silver coin.  
  
"Bhowani," he chanted softly. "Ma, Durga, Kali."  
  
"Kali, um kling," the others muttered solemnly.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Fred Knapp's dream had come true. He was an American journalist and photographer who had finally gotten an assignment in India. Current Events of the World Quarterly magazine had sent Knapp and his wife, Susan, to cover the Kumbb Mela rites on the Ganges River.  
  
The Knapps had been delighted to be chosen for this task. It was a once-in- a-lifetime opportunity to visit the birthplace of Asian civilization and witness a spiritual event few Americans would ever get to see. Fred had been fortunate to find a tour guide parked in a Jeep outside the hotel in Calcutta. The guide spoke English and he was quite willing to take the couple to the Ganges for only five American dollars.  
  
"Have you attended the Kumbb Mela before?" Susan asked the guide as he drove the Jeep along a bumpy dirt road.  
  
"No, madam," the guide replied with a smile on his gaunt dark face. "It is not necessary in my religion."  
  
"You're not a Hindu?" Fred inquired.  
  
He had hoped the fellow was not a Moslem or a Sikh. Religion was probably the number-one reason for violence in India. Hindus and Moslems got along about as well as the NAACP and the KKK back in the States. And neither the Hindus nor the Moslems had much use for Sikhs.  
  
"There are many forms of Hinduism," the guide replied simply. "Just as the Christians have many different creeds, yet all are Christians. True?"  
  
"True," Fred Knapp agreed, impressed by the simple wisdom of the tour guide. "I understand the Ganges River is very crowded this time of year."  
  
"Almost six million people attended last year's ritual," the guide stated. "They flock to the river to bathe in the holy waters of the Ganges. Some believe the Ganges is a goddess of the water. Such foolishness must amuse an educated American like yourself, sahib."  
  
"Of course not," Knapp replied. "I respect the beliefs of others and ..."  
  
"I find the Kumbb Mela ritual amusing," the guide said with a laugh. "Did you know that one year more than five hundred people were trampled to death by the other idiots at the Ganges when it was announced that the bathing was to begin? Fanatics killing one another to be the first to splash in a river. That is insane, is it not?"  
  
"It does seem a bit overzealous," Knapp was forced to admit.  
  
"Senseless death is very sad," the guide said with a sigh as he steered the Jeep toward two men pulling an oxcart. "There is too much senseless death in my country. Killing should serve a purpose."  
  
The guide brought the Jeep to a halt and called to the men with the cart. He stood up as he spoke in rapid Hindi and held splayed fingers of his right hand at his chest. Knapp did not recall seeing this gesture of greeting used by other Indians before.  
  
"Why are we stopping here?" Susan asked, glancing at the wall of six-foot- high elephant grass that surrounded them. It seemed odd to find such a lonely spot so close to the crowded city of Calcutta.  
  
"I suppose our friend wants to ask these gentlemen about the Kumbb Mela," Fred told his wife. "Maybe he wants to know if anybody has been stomped to death yet."  
  
"That's an awful thing to say, Fred," Susan said with a shiver. "I think something's wrong here ..."  
  
"Excuse me, sahib," the guide announced. "These gentlemen claim to have found a most ancient relic. It is a good statue of the Jain god Gomatesvara. They are taking it to the city to have it evaluated by experts at the museum. Perhaps you would like to take a photograph of the statue before we continue to the river?"  
  
"You bet," Fred replied eagerly as he climbed from the Jeep.  
  
The two men at the oxcart smiled and bowed at the American. They were dressed only in linen loincloths. Fred was relieved to notice neither man carried a knife. He mentally chided himself for his concern. After all, this was India, not a New York subway where one had to worry about muggers.  
  
He failed to notice the yellow silk scarf that one of the men carried in his fist.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Carter Hall sat at a booth in the Steinberg Delicatessen. The deli claimed to serve the best corned-beef sandwich in Manhattan. Hall had not eaten in every deli in New York City, but he was so pleased with the sandwich he was seduced into buying a cheese Danish when he went back to the counter for another cup of tea.  
  
"Only seventy-five cents, and it tastes so good you might faint right on the floor," Edgar Steinberg declared. "But don't do that, please. You might hit your head and hurt yourself."  
  
"Good point," Hall said with a grin as he reached for his wallet.  
  
"You know, a cheese Danish has lots of protein," Steinberg continued. "It's good for you. Quick energy food --"  
  
"Sold," Hall announced, cutting him off.  
  
Edgar Steinberg guessed the stranger was about forty-five years old. Hall was a pleasant-looking man. About six-feet, one-inch tall, and 195 pounds. Hall's English was precise and proper. Steinberg could not pinpoint Hall's accent.  
  
Perhaps it was Hall's tweed suit or the fact that he drank tea instead of coffee that caused Steinberg to have a funny feeling about his customer. But Steinberg decided it was Hall's eyes that convinced him he had guessed correctly that Hall was not originally from New York. They were expressive blue eyes that revealed humor and sadness, courage and wisdom all at the same time. They were the eyes of someone who had suffered a great deal, but could not be broken.  
  
Hall was in fact an independently wealthy archaeologist who was the reincarnation of an Egyptian prince named Khufu. One day Hall received a stange gift from another archaeologist named James Rock. Rock had sent Hall a dagger with a crystal blade. When Hall touched the blade, he fell into a trance. In a dreamlike state, Hall saw the life of Khufu unfold as in the days of ancient Egypt.  
  
Khufu was a member of Egyptian royalty opposed by a priest of Anubis, Hath- Set. Hath-Set captured Khufu and attempted to torture him into submission. Khufu escaped and fled Hath-Set, seeking his lover, Shiera. Hath-Set pursued Khufu and one of his archers wounded Khufu just as the prince reached Shiera. Hath-Set offered both the lovers as a sacrifice to the god Anubis, using a crystal blade. As Khufu died, he swore to Hath-Set that he would return one day and it would be Hath-Set's turn to die.  
  
When he awoke, Hall felt strange and left his house to wander the streets. When he passed a subway entrance, a large number of people emerged, fleeing some sort of disaster on the tracks. As he rushed to help, Hall ran into a young woman, the reincarnation of Khufu's lost love, Shiera. The two investigated the subway station to find the subway tracks flooded with rampant electricity, killing many people. Hall vowed to find out what caused the disaster and took Shiera to his home. There, Hall donned a mask of a hawk and wings made of Nth Metal, a discovery of Hall's. He tracked the source of the rampant electricity to the lab of one Doctor Anton Hastor who was, in reality, the reincarnation of the high priest Hath-Set. Hawkman, as he was to become known, destroyed the lab but Hastor escaped.  
  
Hall's unique and impressive qualifications in fighting crime as Hawkman made him the ideal choice to be the longest serving leader of the Justice Society of America, the greatest organization of super-heroes ever assembled on Earth-Two.  
  
Like our planet, known as Earth-One, Earth-Two inhabits the same space but vibrates -- as all matter does -- at a different speed. In most ways the two earths are exactly alike with only slight differences.  
  
Hall had not come to the Steinberg Deli to catch criminals or would-be world dominators. He had arranged to meet an old friend. The archaeologist sat at the booth and quietly waited.  
  
At last a short, swarthy man with an iron-gray beard entered the deli. He wore a dark blue pinstripe suit with a wine-colored tie. The newcomer looked like a businessman of Middle Eastern descent.  
  
Abdullah Yassin was a Libyan. Hall and Yassin had known each other for many years. They both were opposed to the hatred and prejudice that oppressed the Middle East. Arab and Jew, they both thought, could live in peace if they would only learn to set aside the baggage of the past. Understanding and mutual respect were the only hope for a lasting peace in the Middle East.  
  
Yassin smiled when he saw Hall. He approached the booth and extended a hand to his friend.  
  
"Assa-la'mo alai-kum, kwiyis sa'diq," Hall greeted in Arabic, which translated to "Hello, my good friend" in English.  
  
"Since this is a Jewish restaurant," Yassin began, "It may be unwise to converse in Arabic."  
  
"I don't hink you have to worry about Mr Steinberg pulling a machine gun from under his counter," Hall assured his friend.  
  
The only other customers in the Steinberg Deli were a pair of middle-aged housewives who were exchanging stories about how their children made them suffer. One woman had two more offspring than her friend, but the other woman's son had dropped out of medical school so the prize for who had suffered the most remained up for grabs.  
  
"They don't look like an Irgun terrorist hit team," Yassin commented, tilting his head toward the women.  
  
"Are you saying that you think someone is out to kill you?" Hall asked grimly.  
  
"I'm certain a team of assassins is trying to kill me," Yassin answered. "I am not certain who actually ordered this. It is possible that by killing me, someone might gain favor in the eyes of the Libyan government, who might respond with a generous contribution to repay them for such a favor."  
  
"Right now all that matters is that there's a death threat hanging over your head," Hall said. "Why haven't you gone to the authorities, Abdullah?"  
  
"My dear Carter," Yassin sighed. "I fled Libya three years ago and I've never gone to the authorities since. I arrived in the United States with a forged passport, pretending to be an Egyptian tourist. Then I found some people who forged another passport so I could claim I was a refugee from Algeria. They also forged a green card so I could get employment here."  
  
"But employers usually check on those cards to make certain they are valid," Hall commented.  
  
"I know," Yassin replied. "But the additional ID helped me move about and find shelter at boarding houses and such. I've been working for people who don't mind hiring illegal immigrants. I've picked lettuce, worked in garment shops and processed chemicals for metal refineries. The work is hard and the wages low by American standards, but I haven't minded it at all. Besides, I haven't had to pay taxes, either."  
  
"Don't tell me you're worried about the IRS," Hall said dryly. "You should have defected directly to the American Embassy in Cairo or Tel Aviv."  
  
"That is exactly what I wish to avoid," Yassin replied. "I don't want to defect. I'm a Libyan. I still love my country, but I hate politics. I've had enough politics to last a lifetime."  
  
"We've known each other for quite a while, Abdullah," Hall said. "I know you used to butt heads with the leaders of your country when you were an advisor. Not many men would dare criticize the Libyan policies against Israel."  
  
"That doesn't mean I approve of everything the State of Israel has done," Yassin declared. "Especially that Suez Canal fiasco a few years back."  
  
"That makes two of us," Hall assured him.  
  
"But the Libyan monoarchy doesn't believe Israel has a right to exist," Yassin stated. "They don't realize that they are more apt to destroy Libya than Israel. I'm sick to my heart of the politics and bitterness of the Middle East and I think it is only going to get worse in the coming years. I am a Moslem Arab. Does that automatically mean that I should be against all Jews? Is it my duty to hate all Jews? The Koran teaches that God is mercy and love and forgiveness. Why do so many forget this?"  
  
"People tend to look at religion and take what they want from it and ignore the rest," Hall said with a shrug.  
  
"It's politics," Yassin insisted. "And I don't want anything to do with it again. I'd rather do honest labor for dishonest employers than work for another government, whether its Libya or the United States. I am still a Libyan, but I can never go home again. Now all I want is peace."  
  
"Too bad the people stalking you don't feel the same way," Hall said. "I'm just an archaeologist. What do you want me to do, Abdullah?"  
  
"I know you're not like me, Carter," Yassin began. "But you must know people that may be able to help me. You've always had a reputation for being mysterious and have had contact with some of those costumed American heroes that work outside of official sanction."  
  
"So you think I have some sort of covert connection that can help," Hall said with a smile. "Well, I think I can arrange --"  
  
Suddenly Hall noticed two men at the front door of the deli. They wore dark clothing and black ski masks. The pair were either would-be assassins or they were fond of winter sports in the middle of July in Manhattan.  
  
"Down!" the civilian-attired hero shouted as he dove for cover.  
  
The assailants burst through the door and charged inside, pulling weapons from their coats. One gunman held a machine pistol in his fists while the other carried an old reliable Colt 1911 autoloader. Both weapons were equipped with silencers. That meant the attackers had received some professional training, but Hall did not consider such men to be true professionals. Their warped minds and extremist attitudes prevented them from becoming disciplined warriors or competent agents.  
  
But a fanatic amateur can kill you just as dead as an experienced professional.  
  
Hall had bolted from his seat, reacting to the situation instinctively. His battle-honed reflexes were faster than his adversaries thought, and Hall immediately evaluated the circumstances and instantly went into action.  
  
He set his sights at the greater threat -- the man armed with the machine pistol. Hall threw himself into a leap and tackled the man with his arms around his torso. The two men crashed to the floor with Carter Hall on top. Hall had aimed at the man's lower torso in order to knock the air out of the gunman and give him time to attack the second would-be assassin. With the machine pistol out of action, there was also a lesser chance that innocent bystanders might be hurt.  
  
One gunman was now on the floor trying to catch his breath. The attacker blindly fired his machine pistol. Bullets slammed into the floor and buried themselves in the linoleum. The other gunman swung his .45-caliber automatic toward Carter, but the non-costumed Hawkman had dashed to cover at the end of the counter. A bullet burned air more than a foot from Hall's new position. The missile smashed into a cardboard sign advertising hot pastrami and potato salad.  
  
Hall heard the screams of the terrified women. Better frightened than dead, ladies, Carter thought. The tough archaeologist threw two glasses. Both of them hit the second assailant in the chest, stunning the man for a moment. The gunman stumbled, tried to raise his .45 Colt and then was sent crashing to the floor as Hall slammed into him. The back of the man's head hit the floor hard and he was knocked unconscious.  
  
Two more figures, clad in ominous nondescript clothing, burst from the rear door of the deli. Hall had expected this. A two-pronged attack was a professional tactic, but the assailants did not carry it out in a professional manner. This was typical of the criminal breed. Criminals usually received only a crash course in weapons, explosives, and strategy.  
  
The attackers did not coordinate their actions to strike simultaneously, and they failed to use distractions to attempt to catch their opponents off guard. Since they didn't care about the lives of innocents, the would-be assassins could have simply lobbed grenades into the deli, but they chose to come in shooting, probably because they enjoyed seeing the fear on the faces of their victims.  
  
Amateurs, the veteran super-hero thought as he punched the closest invader in the face. The man's head recoiled and red blood began to stain the mask from the broken nose he had just received. The assailant's gun slipped from his fingers. The attacker's jacket flapped open as the assassin fell. Ripe young breasts strained the fabric of the invader's black shirt.  
  
Hall was amazed that he had struck a would-be female killer. Female savages could be just as deadly as males, he knew. He had, of course, run into some female super-villains. But rarely an armed woman who was part of an assassination team.  
  
The man behind the female caught her before she could hit the floor from Hawkman's blow. He pushed the woman forward, using her body as a battering ram. The woman struck Hall's arm, knocking him off balance for a moment.  
  
"Gotcha, jerk!" the gunman snarled as he aimed a .38 snub-nosed revolver at the reincarnated Egyptian's chest.  
  
Hall raised his right arm and pointed the hand at his opponent. The gunman snickered, amused by Carter's reaction.  
  
The assailant barely glimpsed the flash of Hall's left fist before a terrible pain lanced through his right eyeball. Blood gushed from the socket from the terrific blow and he went down for the count.  
  
The report of a medium-caliber weapon bellowed within the deli. Hall whirled, his body poised in a crouch.  
  
Abdullah Yassin held a snub revolver in his fist, a ribbon of smoke curling from the muzzle. The gunman that Hall had tackled in the chest had started to rise, so Yassin had shot the man in the back of the head.  
  
Suddenly two more dark shadows with ski masks charged through the front entrance. Yassin pumped two .38 slugs into the closest attacker. The assailant, another female barbarian, screamed as bullets punched into her left breast. The woman collapsed, but her male companion fired a machine pistol. Yassin groaned and fell back against the table of the booth.  
  
As the assassin prepared to put another round in the wounded Libyan, Hall lunged forward and pounced like an angry hawk. The hero slammed into his opponent. Both men stumbled against the counter, and Hall slashed the side of his right hand across the gunman's wrist. The attacker cried out in pain as bone snapped. The machine pistol fell from trembling, numb fingers.  
  
Hall swatted the back of his hand across the man's face, and the assailant slid along the glass casing of the counter, blood oozing from his mouth. He spat out two broken teeth and glared at the tall archaeologist.  
  
"Sum-bitch!" the would-be assassin snarled as he swung his left fist at Hall's face.  
  
The JSA leader raised his right arm and blocked the punch. The attacker grunted when his smaller forearm connected with the large, battle-hardened forearm of Carter Hall. Hall slammed his own right hook to the bastard's jaw, knuckles cracking against bone forcibly.  
  
The hero swiftly swung a leg and kicked the assailant in the groin. The toe of his shoe smashed into the killer's testicles, mashing them into pulp. The man doubled up with a choking gasp. Then Hall stepped forward and karate-chopped the attacker at the base of the skull.  
  
The savage fell to his knees. Hall hit him again, using the edge of his hand as a club. He struck a third blow to the seventh vertebra in the assassin's neck. Bone crunched and the criminal dropped face first to the floor -- unconscious.  
  
"My God!" Steinberg exclaimed as he cautiously peered up from behind the counter. "My place looks like a goddamn slaughterhouse!"  
  
"Sorry," Hall replied gruffly, more concerned about his wounded friend than the condition of the delicatesen. "It wasn't my idea."  
  
"Edgar!" one of the women at the opposite end of the room cried out. "I think Sara is dead! God in heaven, those gangsters killed her!"  
  
"I'll call an ambulance," Steinberg announced. "And the police ... and my lawyer. Hey, you in the tweed suit. You a cop or what?"  
  
Hall ignored him. He had placed two fingers to Yassin's neck, hoping to find a pulse. There was none. Hawkman shook his head sadly and gently pressed Yassin's eyes shut.  
  
"Sara is alive!" the woman declared. "She only fainted. Wake up, Sara. You trying to give me a heart attack? I should kill you for scaring me so!"  
  
Carter Hall folded Yassin's pudgy hands on his chest.  
  
"Ila al-laqah," Hall whispered, saying goodbye to Abdullah Yassin for the last time. "May you finally find a lasting peace with Allah in paradise, my friend. May Ra be with you as well."  
  
To be continued ... 


	2. Chapter 2

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"I'm sorry about your friend, Carter," Doctor Mid-Nite said. "But I'm concerned about our security."  
  
The members of the Justice Society of America had to worry about security. Even though President Franklin D Roosevelt had established the group of "mystery men" at the start of World War Two to do battle against the Nazis, there were still many people inside the government -- let alone high- profile villains -- who wanted to see the JSA out of the way. The Justice Society learned its lesson in 1951 when a government committee went out of its way to disband the group claiming the super-heroes were involved in un- American activities.  
  
The group had only recently reformed after a long hiatus that lasted through the 1950's. A mad master of disguise by the name of "False-Face" attempted to dominate the world under the threat of chemical holocaust and it took the JSA to stop him.  
  
Six distinguished members of the Justice Society of American were now meeting in the warm oak and cool tiled meeting room of their headquarters located in a mansion in the New York City borough of Queens near Idlewild Airport.  
  
Besides being a master crimefighter, Doctor Mid-Nite was a renown expert on all facets of worldwide crime. Confidential sources from all over the world fed the good doctor with all kinds of criminal intelligence. If he didn't use the information to battle the criminals, he often wrote about them in the books and articles that he wrote in his civilian life as Doctor Charles McNider.  
  
Also in the room was Wonder Woman, who often acted as a go-between for the White House and the JSA. The Oval Office was the only branch of the United States government that knew anything about the Justice Society of America, and even the President knew only what the costumed heroes felt he needed to know.  
  
It seemed as though the criminal cannibals of the world were multiplying rapidly. With the apparent lack of anyone to stop them, the criminal organizations and individual super-villains were becoming bolder, even more ruthless than before, probably because they believed there was no one on the side of justice who was able to stop them. Perhaps the world was slowly going mad.  
  
The Justice Society of America would do whatever was necessary to combat the madness. They would take on the cannibals anywhere and any way to get the job done. The JSA expected no quarter and seldom gave any.  
  
"The JSA is still secure, Charles," Hawkman began as he sat at the large round conference table in the meeting room. "Abdullah Yassin contacted me by telegram. He used a code name only I would recognize. He was a good man. The world needs more like him."  
  
"Well," Dr Mid-Nite said with a shrug. "everything is squared away with the police in Manhattan. They just thought you were a tough archaeologist who was good with his fists and Yassin was the main target of the hit. The police are going to take most of the credit, which isn't fair, but it helps us and you, Carter, maintain security."  
  
"Any info on the criminals who attacked Carter at the deli?" Starman inquired as he sipped black coffee and leaned back in his chair.  
  
Starman was a powerful man, ruggedly handsome and built like a lumberjack. He was clad in a bright red costume that included green trunks, green boots and a long green cape. Though he wore no mask over his face, Ted Knight did wear a soft, red helmet over his head that was topped by a wedge. A large yellow star was adorned across his chest. Starman derived his special powers through a device known as the Cosmic Rod. The handheld rod was a device of his own invention that focused cosmic radiation to an endless number of ends. The Cosmic Rod commonly focused energy both to defy gravity, allowing Starman to fly, and to emit concussive bursts of force, serving as an offensive weapon.  
  
At the beginning of his career as a costumed crimefighter, Knight had developed a passing fancy in the emerging mystery-men like the Sandman and Green Lantern around 1940. Knight was an independently wealthy man who liked to dabble in astronomy. Like many of the younger elite, Knight had a sense of dissatisfaction with his life. This was coupled with boredom.  
  
Being a bright individual Knight had a natural talent for science. During one visit to Washington, D.C., Knight was introduced to technology invented by a Professor Abraham Davis. One of the devices was then called a Gravity Rod. It was a device that was designed to perform a variety of energy-based feats, but which lacked a power source. Knight procured the rod and studied it. With money and other resources at his command, Knight was able to discover a cosmic radiation of unknown nature, and during a mishap in his laboratory, Knight was able to charge the Gravity Rod with this energy. It wasn't long until Knight was seized with a sense of purpose and a desire to join the ranks of the new breed heroes who arose at the start of World War Two in the United States.  
  
"Four of the assailants at the deli were Americans," Dr Mid-Nite said, answering Starman's question. "All had been involved in crimes of violence before. Mostly juvenile offenses. One of them had spent a couple of years in the joint for second-degree murder. All four low-lifes had been associated with radical political groups in the past. Interesting variety. The two women were formerly members of something called the Socialist Reform Front. One of the men used to be a member of the National White Supremacy Party."  
  
"Sounds like a fun group," Hourman said dryly.  
  
Rex Tyler was known as "The Man of the Hour" or Hourman, for short. Tyler was the inventor of the Miraclo pill. Miraclo was a chemical stimulant that instantly gave Tyler superhuman strength, endurance and reaction time for exactly sixty minutes.  
  
Hourman was also a large man. He was dressed in black costume that covered his entire torso. A black cowl hid his identity from the public. He also wore a yellow cape with yellow leggings. Black boots with red stripes around the ankles and a red belt completed his mysterious costume.  
  
Unlike many of his JSA comrades, Tyler actually grew up in a humble home enviornment. He grew up to become a chemist for Bannermain Chemical in New York. His friends and colleagues gave him the nickname "Tick-Tock" for his obsessive punctuality. Working late one night, Tyler discovered a drug that would give a man miraculous powers. He called the drug "Miraclo." He ultimately donned the costume of a crimefighter and became Hourman.  
  
"One of the dead men was Ali Nassan, believed to have led other hit teams in the Middle East and Western Europe," Doctor Mid-Nite explained.  
  
"The Libyans considered Abdullah Yassin to be a traitor to the Arab people," Hawkman added. "They may have ordered the assassination of Yassin. We'll probably never know for certain."  
  
"Hardly a justifiable reason for murder," Wonder Woman muttered with a slight trace of disgust in her voice. "Yassin believed Jews and Moslems could live together in peace, so someone killed him."  
  
The eyes of all the males in the room were on the beautiful Diana Prince, who called herself Wonder Woman. Her long, luxurious brunette hair was over a gold tiara with a red star that covered her forehead. A costume of red, white, blue, and gold clung tightly to her magnificent body. Red and white boots completed her uniform.  
  
Wonder Woman's powers were formidable. They were the result of her Amazonian heritage. Her powers included super-strength, super-speed, and the ability to fly in the air for brief periods of time.  
  
Wonder Woman was also trained by her Amazonian sisters to be a warrior. She was able to deflect projectiles targeting her with her Amazonian bracelets. In addition to her bracelets, Wonder Woman had an invisibile airplane and a magical golden lariat that compelled those ensnared by it to obey her commands.  
  
Her love of a man, Steve Trevor, brought Diana to the United States during World War Two. She eventually rose to a position in U.S. military intelligence. Her civilian position and her respected position as an Amazonian princess in her Wonder Woman guise allowed her access to high- ranking sources in the U.S. government.  
  
"Murders are often committed for reasons that don't make much sense," Doctor Mid-Nite remarked, reaching for a file folder.  
  
"I realize that, Doctor," Diana replied. "In fact, the President of the United States has taken a personal interest in a series of bizarre killings that have recently occurred in India."  
  
"I hope he still remembers how we assisted the government during the False- Face affair," Hourman noted.  
  
Wonder Woman smiled and nodded.  
  
"Does this mean we've got a new case to work on?" The Atom asked eagerly.  
  
The diminutive crimefighter from Calvin City had become restless and started to pace the floor. The Atom was a bundle of nervous energy, and he could never sit still for long. Al Pratt lived for a fight even though he was barely over five-feet tall. His stature was the only thing that was small on the Atom. He had the heart and courage of a lion and would never show fear while facing an opponent.  
  
He wore a blue mask that obscurred his entire face. A blue cape covered his powerful shoulders. A yellow tunic with red trim along his open chest covered his body. A large, brown leather belt covered his abdomen. Red boots were pulled up along his bare legs. Brown leather bracelets covered the Atom's wrists and forearms.  
  
In his younger days, the Atom was the target of harassment. Pratt was often referred to as "Atom Al" by his tormentors. After being accosted by a mugger in front of a girl who he had a crush on, Pratt came into contact with former heavyweight boxer and trainer Joe Morgan. Morgan trained the eager Pratt into a first-class fighter.  
  
One night, Pratt found out that the girl he liked had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. Finding the criminals, Pratt saved the girl. He later donned a costume he had made for himself and became the crimefighter Atom.  
  
"Yes," Doctor Mid-Nite confirmed. "We have a mission. The murders in India haven't received much press attention, but a lot of people are getting killed over there and some folks in high places are getting worried about it."  
  
"Like the President of the United States," Hourman mused.  
  
"And the prime minister of Great Britain," Doctor Mid-Nite added. "The president of France and the prime minister of the Federal Republic of Germany and a couple other heads of Western democracies are also interested."  
  
"Sounds interestin'" the Atom remarked. "And we haven't heard any details yet."  
  
"Okay," Doctor Mid-Nite said as he nodded. "Somebody is murdering Americans, Britons and Western Europeans in India. A few victims have been minor officials working for the embassies in New Delhi. Others have been businessmen and trade representatives. Most were just tourists. The murders have occurred all over the country from Bombay to Calcutta."  
  
"How long has this been going on?" Starman asked.  
  
"Almost a year now," Mid-Nite answered. "At first the motive appeared to be robbery. The killers steal their victims' money, watches, rings and so forth, but I don't believe that's the real motive."  
  
"I don't know, Doctor," Wonder Woman said with a shrug. "I've heard about drug addicts who would kill people for twenty dollars. That kind of money would mean even more to some poor person in a country like India."  
  
"But the murders have all been committed the same way," the blind crimefighter explained. "The victims were strangled to death. The murders were well thought out in advance and the killings were done swiftly, skillfully, in an organized manner."  
  
"Or a ritualistic manner," Hawkman commented thoughtfully. "Were any of the murders committed by more than one assailant? Probably two men holding the victim while a third strangled him with a weapon that could be a silk scarf with a silver rupee knotted in the middle?"  
  
"Yes," Doctor Mid-Nite said with surprise. "How did you know?"  
  
"That's the traditional method of assassination by the Thuggees," Hawkman replied. "Although they'd call it a 'ritual sacrifice,' not murder."  
  
"I've read a bit about the Thugs," the Atom announced. "Cult of robbers who strangled their victims. Thuggee is where the term 'thug' comes from in fact. As I recall, they were active in the 1840s. The British were occupyin' India at the time. The soldiers rounded up the bad guys and hanged the lot of them. I thought that was the end of the Thugs."  
  
"Think again," Hawkman told him. "The British executed hundreds of Thuggees, but they only drove the other members of the cult underground. The religion is still practiced to this day. In fact, there was a revival of the Thuggees in the Bengal region as recently as 1947."  
  
"And the Indian Criminal Investigation Division thinks that's what's happened now," Doctor Mid-Nite confirmed.  
  
"You seem to know all about this cult, Carter," Hourman remarked. "What else can you tell us?"  
  
"Well," the reincarnated Egyptian prince began, "they worship the goddess Kali, and according to legend, Kali is the daughter of Shiva, one of the three great gods of the Hindu religion. She is the goddess of death, but also the giver of life and the destroyer of evil."  
  
"This is all very interesting," Hourman remarked. "But I don't see why the JSA is getting involved in a series of murders committed by a band of religious fanatics. I'd think the Indian authorities would handle it, or possibly the CIA and the European intelligence outfits. They already have agents operating in India, don't they?"  
  
"Not as many as you might think," Wonder Woman replied.  
  
Doctor Mid-Nite added, "The Indian government doesn't seem terribly upset about Americans and Britons being strangled in their country. Apparently none of the victims of the Thuggees have been Indians. They figure it's our problem. The British SIS, I'm told, keep their activity in India to a minimum. That's still a sensitive area of the world for the British. Still some hard feelings there."  
  
"I don't know why India is still pissed off at England," the Atom said with a shrug.  
  
Wonder Woman glared at Atom, disapproving the language he had used.  
  
"Sorry, Diana," he said sheepishly. "The British rule ended there some time ago and they haven't done such a great job running the country on their own."  
  
"France and Germany have virtually no operatives in India," Wonder Woman continued. "And the United States has only a handful of CIA people there. They have to keep a very low profile."  
  
Starman said, "The JSA has never gone up against these Thuggees."  
  
"Yes," Doctor Mid-Nite admitted. "But we've tangled with secret societies involved in criminal activities before."  
  
"We can expect these Thuggees to be no push over," Hawkman announced. "You see, some six hundred years ago, the original Assassins network extended across most of Asia, including India. There is evidence to suggest the cult of the Assassins influenced the followers of Kali who then became the 'children of death."  
  
"What sort of evidence? And who were these people in the Assassins cult? This is another cult?" Starman asked.  
  
Hawkman explained, "The Assassins are another ancient cult of fanatics that were spread in all parts of Asia. They believed their leader was a prophet of Allah. They are very dangerous because they don't care if they get killed in the service of their master because they believe they'd go straight to paradise. We can expect the Thuggees to be much the same."  
  
Starman pressed. "Okay, the Assassins were Moslems and the Thugs were Hindus. How did one influence the other?"  
  
"Not all Thugs were Hindus," Hawkman corrected. "Most Thugs came from the Bengal region where Hindus and Moslems have generally gotten along better than they do anywhere else in India. Unfortunately both were known to join the cult of Kali. Also the Thugs used various passwords and key phrases, among them some salutations honoring the Islamic prophet of Allah. This sets them apart from most Moslem sects, who consider Mohammed to be the supreme prophet."  
  
"Well," the Atom said. "These Thugs sound like interestin' guys. One thing I can't stand is a dull opponent."  
  
"How many victims have the Thuggees claimed so far, Charles?" Starman inquired.  
  
"My sources have confirmed fifty-three, but it might be more than that," Mid-Nite replied, checking his notes. "Twenty-four were British, sixteen Americans and rest have been French, German, a couple of Italians and at least one Swiss national. He was from a banking interest sent to strike up a deal with the gold market in Bombay."  
  
"Among the victims," Hawkman asked, "were there any women?"  
  
"I don't think any of them were," Doctor Mid-Nite announced, scanning a list of names. "Nope. Not a single woman among the victims. In fact, the killers throttled an American journalist named Fred Knapp right in front of his wife. When she tried to stop them, the Thugs just pushed her aside, but they didn't strike her."  
  
"That's odd," Hourman remarked. "Bandits and murderers seldom care about the sex of their victims."  
  
"Thuggees would," Hawkman stated. "They have several taboos in the cult of Kali, one of which is never to take the life of a woman. After all, Kali is a goddess. Sacrificing a female would be sacrilegious."  
  
"I guess you'll be safe on this mission, Diana," Hourman said.  
  
"Maybe we should dress in drag for this mission," the Atom joked. "Just to be on the safe side."  
  
"Atom," Hawkman began with a grin, "if any of us wanted to play it safe, we never would have gotten into this line of work in the first place."  
  
To be continued ... 


	3. Chapter 3

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Morarji Shastri stood on the rock ledge by the mouth of the cave. His long yellow robe hung loosely on his small scrawny frame. Shastri wore a necklace of small copper skulls and held a pickax with a silver blade. Shastri was a guru, the religious leader of the cult of Kali.  
  
More than two hundred followers had assembled at the foot of the mountain. Most wore ragged clothing. Some were clad only in dhoti, the garment usually associated with Mahatma Gandhi. A few wore long silk jackets and had yellow turbans bound about their heads. One of these men was Ram Sonoka, a rajput, or son of a maharaja.  
  
The congregation looked to Shastri for enlightenment. The little man was the voice of Kali, the prophet of the great goddess. Shastri addressed the crowd in a reedy voice that echoed within the rock walls of the valley. His voice may have seemed comical to one who failed to realize the power Shastri commanded.  
  
"Oh loyal children of Kali!" the prophet cried. "The great mother goddess, greater than Lord Shiva who fathered her. For Kali is all things that are woman and all things that are the universe. She is destruction and she is life. She is birth and she is death. She is the pure virgin and the loyal wife."  
  
"Kali bhai, salam," several Thuggees chanted.  
  
"Bhowani, Kali ah-ka-sha," others added.  
  
"It is good that you praise Kali," Shastri declared. "It is good that you honor the goddess of all things. But actions are needed as well as words, my children. Actions and sacrifice. For we are privileged to be her servants, and we have been born at the time of great evil known as Kaliyuga. Only Kalipuja, the worship and sacrifice to our goddess, can assure us of nirvana when the evil time and our life on this earth have both come to an end."  
  
Shastri waved his silver pickax across the congregation like a magic wand. The followers trembled, for they knew the prophet would now speak of a matter both profound and divine.  
  
"Yet some of you question the word of Kali," Shastri declared. "You hesitate to use the silk scarf that is the instrument we must use to slay the evil ones, the devils who walk like men. For the great Kali is also Surga, the slayer of devils."  
  
He continued, "You know the saga of her victories on earth. Once devils walked the earth and Kali struck them down. The goddess of glory ripped the evil ones to pieces as a lioness would tear a goat apart. Yet every drop of blood gave seed to a new monster. So Kali had to kill the beasts without shedding their foul blood. And Kali defeated the devils of that day. So it is our duty to sacrifice the evil ones of the present in the manner taught to us by Kali."  
  
The congregation bowed solemnly and began to chant, but Shastri demanded silence.  
  
"Perhaps some of you doubt my word as the high priest of Kali," he declared. "Perhaps you do not understand why Kali wants you to sacrifice the Americans and the Europeans, who are pale-skinned demons the color of a bloodless corpse. Kali does not need to justify her law to mortals. If a thing is to be done, it is our duty to do it. If a thing is taboo, it is not our place to ask why."  
  
The congregation uttered a collective murmur. They were obviously dissatisfied with the guru's statement, although none dared openly oppose or criticize Shastri. The prophet once again called for silence.  
  
"However," he began, "Kali understands that doubt is part of human nature. She realizes the weakness of mortal faith, and she shall once again demonstrate the truth of her law. Chopra! Kosti! Bring the infidel so all may see the judgement of Kali with their own eyes!"  
  
Three figures emerged from a tent at the base of the mountain. Chopra and Kosti, two lesser priests under the command of Prophet Shastri, escorted a white man from the tent. Chopra was a large man for an Indian, well fed and muscled. He was a formidable man with heavy eyebrows and a lantern jaw. Chopra's appearance was not deceptive. He was an expert in vajra-musti wrestling, and he could kill with his bare hands.  
  
Kosti was barely five feet tall, but his slender body was knotted with muscle. The little Indian smiled constantly, as if forever enjoying some great personal joke. The followers of the cult believed this was because Kosti was filled with the joy of spiritual enlightenment. In truth, Kosti was a deranged sadist who smiled because his twisted mind was usually daydreaming about torture and murder. When he was not thinking about such deeds, he was doing them. Kosti had truly found an occupation he loved.  
  
The man who accompanied the two Indians appeared to be frightened. Kosti and Chopra had to shove him forward. His torn white shirt was spotted with crimson and his khaki shorts were soiled. The man's hands were tied behind his back and his mouth was wrapped with white cloth blotched with blood.  
  
"Behold, my children!" Shastri declared. "Before you stands an Englishman. He would try to run from the judgement of Kali, for he knows our goddess is the slayer of evil. When captured, he tried to bite off his own tongue in order to spit blood on the ground to create more British monsters like himself, just like the devils who opposed Kali in the past."  
  
The crowd gasped in amazement at this tale. In fact, the Briton had not bitten his tongue. He no longer had one. Kosti had cut out the man's tongue. That was simply a precaution. A silent man with his hands bound behind his back can only protest accusations by shaking his head.  
  
"Now, my children," Shastri announced. "Behold the goddess Kali!"  
  
An incredible figure appeared at the mouth of the cave. The Thuggees gasped and lowered their heads in prayer. They chanted salutations to Kali and swore their everlasting devotion to the mother goddess.  
  
Seated upon a throne was the goddess Kali. Her face was striped with yellow. The features were fierce. She had cat eyes and a snarling mouth with purple lips. Her hair jutted with black bristles and green serpents were bound about her head. Kali seemed to glide to the edge of the stone ledge, levitating the throne with her.  
  
The goddess had eight arms, long and serpentine, like the tentacles of a squid. Four of her hands were fisted around the handles of knives. Two other fists held fighting hatchets and a seventh hand clutched the shaft of a lance. The eighth and final hand hald a severed human head.  
  
A necklace of yellow skulls hung down to the creature's heavy, full breasts. The figure was bronze and would have appeared to be a statue if it did not move.  
  
But it did move.  
  
The eight arms rose and lowered like a spider in its web. Kali's head moved from side to side, eyes shifting in their metal sockets. Even the severed head in Kali's fist appeared to be alive. Its mouth opened and closed like a puppet and occasionally the disembodied head blinked its eyes.  
  
Kosti and Chopra shoved the Briton into a clearing between the congregation and the tent. The crowd moved away from the two priests and the stranger.  
  
"The judgement of Kali is the ultimate truth," Shastri announced. "See that judgement now!"  
  
Kali's necklace of skulls began to glow. Suddenly, a wide beam of light jetted from the skull at the breasts of the goddess. Like a column of hot steel, the blue-white light descended upon the British prisoner.  
  
He did not burst into flame or melt down to a pile of bones. The Briton simply vanished. His body dissolved. Flesh, blood and bones were annihilated in the twinkling of an eye. A charred spot on the ground was all that remained of the man.  
  
The crowd was stunned by the awesome display of power by their mighty goddess. They dropped to their knees and lowered their foreheads to the ground. The congregation began to chant to Kali, praising her name and asking for the strength and good karma to do her will.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Vandal Savage sat in a scoop-backed chair as he watched the "goddess Kali" slide backward along an iron rail in the floor. Two technicians in his employ moved to the rear of the figure and went to work with screwdrivers. They removed the backplate and examined a maze of circuits inside of Kali.  
  
"Is something wrong with it?" Savage frowned. "Everything seemed to work fine during the demonstration."  
  
"Yes, sir," one of the technicians replied, glancing up from the statue. "But this was the first time the laser was used. We just want to check to be certain none of the circuits was damaged in the process."  
  
The immortal master villain replied, "Very good. You are doing a fine job. Please continue."  
  
Savage glanced about at the generators and control panels that lined the rock walls of the room. It had cost him more than two million rupees to build this complex base inside the mountain of Kali. Some of the best engineers and electronics experts in the world had been involved with the project. The international criminal was glad a state-of-the-art air conditioning unit had been included.  
  
The quarters were certainly more comfortable than Savage had had many times in the distant past. About 50,000 years ago, Vandal Savage was a member of the Blood People, a tribe of Cro-Magnons. He saw his father murdered by Rip Hunter, a time traveler from the 20th century. Hunter had killed Savage's father, thinking him to be Vandal, who Hunter knew would become immortal and be the founder of a secret society that would menace Earth in his own time.  
  
Shortly after murdering the father, Hunter realized his mistake. The son, Vandal Savage, succeeded his father as the leader of the tribe. Later, a strange meteor fell from the sky and seemingly burst into flaming gases over Vandal Savage's head. As time passed, Savage realized that he had become immortal. Savage, for whatever true reason, has embarked on a quest for power that has lasted thousands of years. He has spent centuries securing power, mostly from behind the scenes.  
  
Morarji Shastri entered the control room. The little guru smiled as he patted Kali's bronze head.  
  
"Great show today, wasn't it?" Shastri inquired as he slumped into a chair across from the bearded Vandal Savage. "We made a wonderful impression on the audience, don't you agree?"  
  
"Shouldn't you be with your flock, Shastri?" Savage asked dryly.  
  
"Kosti and Chopra are handling services tonight," Shastri explained. "Simple stuff, really. The followers of Kali chant and chant and call to the goddess all her many names. Eventually they put themselves into a sort of self-induced hypnotic state. The priests start the chants in a steady rhythm with lots repetition, and I put in some revolving lights in the walls to add to the atmosphere. After a while those idiots go into a deep trance that they consider the inner peace of Kali. It's very amusing to watch them put themselves in that zombielike condition and then hear about all the silly hallucinations they experience, which they regard as religious visions."  
  
"It sounds very entertaining, Shastri," the criminal mastermind said with a shrug. "But I'm not laughing about some of the failures by your Thuggees."  
  
"I wish you wouldn't call them that," Shastri remarked. "You see 'Thuggee' comes from the word 'thagna,' which is Hindi for 'deceive.' Thuggees are suppose to be the deceivers, but we know they are really the deceived. Correct?"  
  
"Stop being so pompous with me," Savage snapped. "Last week your followers strangled an American journalist to death in front of his wife, but they let her live."  
  
"I've explained that before, my friend," Shastri sighed. "The children of Kali don't kill for political purposes. They make sacrifices to their noble goddess and slay devils in human form. It's a righteous calling for the sake of Kali, who is mother, wife and virgin all at the same time. Pretty good trick, eh?"  
  
"In my lifetime I've known officials who are whore, saint and father confessor," Savage commented. "Can't you convince the Thuggees that women can be devils when they're Americans and British?"  
  
"Absolutely not," Shastri insisted. "India is a civilized country. True, women and men are not equal here. In many ways, women are considered inferior to men, but they still receive special consideration and respect. Go to the worst sections of any city or town in India. You will find women in dire poverty, surrounded by thieves and cutthroats. Yet, even among the poorest Indian women, most wear some gold earrings or a necklace of gold. And no Indian would ever consider robbing them of this gold. It simply isn't done in my country."  
  
"We can't afford to let witnesses to Thuggee killings walk away and report descriptions to the police," the immortal man told him.  
  
"Not many whites look very closely at Indians," Shastri remarked. "I doubt that most of them could tell us apart."  
  
"Don't put too much faith in that," Savage told him. "And don't forget that not all Europeans and British are white. The Americans are the worst. They have millions of blacks and Asians."  
  
"They should have social controls of ethnic groups," Shastri said. "You know, that's how the caste system got started. The Sanskrit word for caste is 'varna,' which means 'color.' The ancient Aryans used to rule over the black aborigines and the dark Dravidians."  
  
"At least your Thuggees don't have any taboos about killing people of different races," the bearded criminal commented. "Providing they don't lose their nerve like that team last night. They failed to carry out the assassination of that German automobile representative. I thought the Thuggees were suppose to be total fanatics, fearless of death and totally dedicated to serving their holy guru and the goddess Kali."  
  
"They are," Shastri replied. "The team last night did not lose their nerve. While stalking the German in the streets of Calcutta, they encountered a pair of cats fighting in an alley."  
  
"Cats fighting?" The criminal mastermind glared at Shastri. "What did that have to do with carrying out an assassination?"  
  
"It was a bad omen," Shastri explained. "The team took it as a sign, a mystical warning that their karma was opposed to carrying out the mission that night. It meant Kali had changed her mind, so the team had to come home instead."  
  
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Savage said with disgust. "Isn't there anything you can do about such foolishness?"  
  
"My dear sir," Shastri replied, "we are able to manipulate and control the followers of Kali because they are religious extremists, ignorant, gullible and superstitious. These qualities make them ideal clay in our skillful hands, thanks to your technology and my charisma. However, these same qualities make the people fearful of shadows and bad omens and strange patterns of tea leaves at the bottom of a cup. We can't do away with their superstitions and still manipulate them."  
  
"I don't like it," Savage said grimly. "And I'm not certain I can trust you, Shastri. You're only interested in making money."  
  
"And you're only concerned with power. Too bad you are not a religious man or you could run this entire affair without me, my friend."  
  
"You seem to forget you owe me your life," the immortal criminal snapped. "And you're making quite a fortune for a false guru."  
  
"Which reminds me," Shastri said, still smiling. "You owe me five thousand tolas of gold."  
  
"Smuggling that much gold into India isn't easy," Savage stated. "Your government has strict laws concerning bringing gold into the country. We must be careful. The cstoms officials check almost every foreign plane with extra care. Isn't it considered treason for an Indian to receive gold from smugglers? I'm surprised you insist on it for payment."  
  
"It is true that the government once tried to make the possession of imported gold an act of treason," Shastri answered, "but no one in India would obey such a law. Gold has religious significance here. That makes it more important than the laws of men and more valuable than money. Besides, gold is an international form of currency. I know the value of precious metals has slipped a bit, but a man with five thousand tolas of gold will still be very wealthy, regardless of the country he chooses to live in."  
  
"You plan to leave India, Shastri?" Savage asked, raising a thick eyebrow with suspicion.  
  
"Not for a while," the Indian assured him. "But after this affair is over, I may decide to seek a new residence."  
  
"You really are a mercenary," Savage said with contempt.  
  
"I'm glad we've finally begun to understand each other, my friend," Shastri said with amusement.  
  
To be continued ... 


	4. Chapter 4

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"Who the hell are you people?" Bert Waldo demanded.  
  
He pointed a gold-plated pen at the five oddly-dressed people who said they were members of the Justice Society of America. Waldo was a small, chubby man with a balding head and a round face. He wore horn-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. Bert Waldo looked like an accountant or a CPA tax man. He blended into crowds like a wrinkled pair of slacks, a useful trait for clandestine operations.  
  
Bert Waldo was a case officer for the Central Intelligence Agency and had been stationed in India since 1956. Like most CIA officers, he was concerned with keeping secrets.  
  
The five super-heroes: Hawkman, Wonder Woman, the Atom, Hourman, and Starman had shown up in front of Waldo almost by surprise. They seemed to had come out of nowhere. The CIA man had barely uttered a dozen words before he and the JSA members met with a Colonel Sangh in a conference room at the Hariana Regent Hotel in New Delhi. Then Bert Waldo erupted with righteous outrage.  
  
"All I was told was how to recognize you five and bring you here when you arrived," Waldo continued. "By God they were right. Five people dressed very strangely. I was given no explanation. No information about who you are or who you work for ..."  
  
"Are you familiar with the term 'need to know'?" Wonder Woman inquired. "You've been told what you need to know. When you need to know more, we'll tell you."  
  
"I'm sure you were also told to cooperate with us, Mister Waldo," Hourman added.  
  
"You five sure dress weird. I betcha like to go trick or treatin' back home." the CIA man said sarcastically.  
  
"Please Mister Waldo," Colonel Bahadur Sangh began. "Let us be civil to our guests, please."  
  
Colonel Sangh was the executive officer of the Indian Criminal Investigation Department. The sad-faced Hindu was clearly distressed by his self-appointed role as peacemaker. If these foreigners wanted to argue, why did they have to come to his country to quarrel?  
  
"Civil?" Waldo glared at Sangh. "These mystery hotshots arrived here and I don't even know why. Do you know why they're here, Colonel Sangh?"  
  
"I imagine they will tell us," Sangh replied.  
  
"For crissake," Waldo groaned. "Don't you realize that these are genuine grade-A mystery men?"  
  
"Well," Starman remarked, "we don't refer to ourselves as such."  
  
"Have you been ordered to cooperate with us, Colonel?" Hawkman asked. "I believe your orders come directly from the office of the prime minister of India."  
  
"Yes," Sangh admitted. "That is true, but I'm not certain the PM fully understands this situation. He is still quite new to his office and preoccupied with many important national concerns."  
  
"Fifty-three murders with the same MO committed all over the country within less than a year isn't considered important?" Starman raised his eyebrows. "That kind of attitude could ruin your tourist trade, fella."  
  
"Is this why you costumed nuts are here?" Waldo said. "A series of murders have been committed by some fanatics belonging to a religious cult."  
  
"Thuggees," Hawkman stated.  
  
"Okay," the CIA man agreed with a nod. "So you figured out that much. Well, things like this happen from time to time in India. Colonel Sangh and the CID are trying to track down the killers right now. What makes you costumed yahoos think you can do a better job than he can? You guys should go back to the States and look into some senseless homicides committed back there. I keep up with the news about what's going on in America. Fellas steal nerve gas canisters and threaten the world, that sorta thing. Crazies drive from state to state murder total strangers. Compare that to the fifty-three murders you guys are talking about."  
  
"The murders committed in India aren't the work of a roving serial killer," Hourman told him. "It's a conspiracy to kill Americans, Britons and Western Europeans -- citizens of countries that happen to be American allies."  
  
"And you do not regard India as an ally," Sangh said, frowning.  
  
"Beginnin' to wonder about that," the Atom said dryly.  
  
"This theory about a conspiracy is a presumption with no proof to back it up," Waldo snorted. "Just paranoia."  
  
"What makes you so high and mighty?" Atom asked sharply. "You think you know everythin', but you just don't give a damn about the lives of those people who were strangled to death simply because of their nationality."  
  
"It's a police matter," Waldo insisted. "Let Colonel Sangh do his job and you costumed characters keep out of his way. You five don't know India. I'll wager that none of you speak Hindi or Urdu. You probably don't even know the difference between the two languages."  
  
"The spoken languages are very similar," Wonder Woman announced. "But Hindi is derived from Sanskrit, so it is written in Devanagari script, left to right -- the same as English and European languages. Urdu is written from right to left, the same as Hebrew and most Asian languages. It resembles Arabic script, and it is largely used by the Islamic population in India."  
  
"Big deal, lady," Waldo growled. "But you don't speak either language, do you? How about Punjabi? Malayalam? Kashmiri? There are more than forty languages spoken in India. Do you speak any of them?"  
  
"Do you?" Starman asked.  
  
"I manage," the CIA man replied.  
  
"This has gone far enough," Hawkman declared. "We don't want to pull rank on you fellows, but I'm afraid we have to."  
  
"What?" Waldo scoffed. "I'm CIA. You can't pull rank on me!"  
  
"Check with your control officer and ask him what our authority is," Hawkman told him. "You'll learn that we are acting on direct orders from the President of the United States. If you refuse to cooperate with us, you'll be replaced by someone else and probably find yourself being debriefed so the Central Intelligence Agency can kick you out of their organization."  
  
"You can't ..." Waldo began.  
  
"Yes, we can," Starman informed him. "In fact, I could blast a hole through your head with my Cosmic Rod," he patted the green holster that was on his hip that contained his rod. "And I could just say that you had been killed by a large hailstone. Nobody would ever question my claim, and no one would ever investigate your death."  
  
"This sort of talk is most unseemly," Colonel Sangh declared. "I wish to remind you that this is India, not the United States. You are all guests in my country."  
  
"You're wrong, Colonel," Hawkman stated. "We were not invited to your country. We were asked to look into the serious situation that has arisen here and to rectify it. Without your cooperation, it will be most difficult to carry out our mission. If that happens, you and your government will regret it. Because if we go home empty-handed, the President will know why we couldn't complete our mission here. Then next year's American foreign aid to India will be cut."  
  
Sangh stared at Hawkman and the huge wings that were attached to his back. "You can't be serious."  
  
"The President is the head of the executive branch of the American federal government," Hourman told him. "That means the man in the Oval Office can cut foreign aid or at least tie up delivery for about a year by slugging it out in Congress, which is our legislative branch. The judicial branch doesn't get involved in foreign-aid policies, so don't hope for any help from them."  
  
"I wouldn't count on too many congressmen making an issue of cutting aid to India," Wonder Woman added. "People in the United States are getting quite upset about seeing more tax dollars spent on aid to foreign countries than on social programs in the States."  
  
"Colonel Sangh," Hawkman continued, "we have no desire to make things difficult for you or Mister Waldo. All of us are on the same side."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that," Waldo muttered.  
  
"Yes," Wonder Woman commented. "I know what you mean."  
  
"Lady and gentlemen," Hawkman said wearily, "we have a mission to carry out. Frankly, if we have to blackmail you two in order to get your cooperation, we'll do it. The mission comes first. If we have to destroy your careers or hit India in the pocketbook, we'll do that, too."  
  
"My God," Waldo whispered. "You really are serious."  
  
"Very serious," the JSA leader confirmed. "I would rather every man and woman in this room die carrying out our mission than utterly fail to accomplish it."  
  
"I wonder," Sangh remarked. "if you people are this ruthless toward your allies, how do you treat your enemies?"  
  
"Are you familiar with the passive resistance tactics of Mahatma Gandhi?" the Atom inquired.  
  
"Of course," Sangh replied, surprised by the question.  
  
"Well," Atom said with a chuckle, "we don't use those methods."  
  
"Colonel Sangh," Hawkman said gently. He knew it was time to mend fences if the members of the Justice Society was to get decent cooperation from the CIA and the Indian CID. The Winged Wonder did not want his allies to feel any more resentment than they already felt toward the JSA heroes. "We don't mean to threaten or intimidate you. Or you, Mister Waldo. We really don't. You two were chosen to work with us because you're professionals, highly respected in your field."  
  
"Oh, God," the Atom muttered with disgust.  
  
Hawkman moved forward and managed to step on the Atom's foot without being too obvious. The diminutive hero grunted sourly, but he realized it was time to shut up and let Hawkman do the talking.  
  
"Now," the JSA leader continued, "you gentlemen are correct. We're not familiar with India and none of us speak Hindi or Urdu. We need your help, be we don't expect you to drop other matters that may very well be more important to international safety and freedom than our mission. I don't know what you gentlemen might have on your plate right now, and I realize I'm certainly not in a need-to-know position concerning India's national security or the CIA operations in this region."  
  
"We have to maintain top-level security about our intelligence gathering," Waldo replied proudly, unaware the costumed crimefighter was humbling himself to stroke the CIA man's ego.  
  
"Well, your intelligence has certainly been better at gathering information and keeping secrets than anyone else in the intelligence community," Wonder Woman commented with an envious sigh. "That's why we hope you can help us with some information ... without jeopardizing any of your sources, of course."  
  
"We'll see what we can do," Waldo said as he stared at the beautiful hero who had a body that wouldn't quit in a skimpy costume.  
  
"We need at least one guide and a translator," Hawkman explained. "If you can spare more manpower, that would be even better."  
  
"Where do you intend to start?" Waldo asked.  
  
"The most recent murders by the Thuggees were committed about a week ago," Hawkman replied. "One in Calcutta and the other here in New Delhi. Checking out the scene of a crime seems a logical place to begin an investigation."  
  
"But CID has already investigated those sites," Sangh stated. "I'm afraid the killers left no clues."  
  
"Sometimes a lack of evidence can be a clue," Hawkman replied.  
  
Sangh and Waldo nodded in agreement because they did not want to admit they did not know what the hell Hawkman meant.  
  
The CID colonel cleared his throat. "You'll have the help you need," he announced.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Hawkman and the Atom were flying over the streets of New Delhi. Crowds of people stared up into the sky to watch the strange sight of a winged man carrying a small, well-muscled individual wearing a blue hood over his face and a blue cape flapping in the wind. Hawkman held on to the Atom's left wrist. Spectators emerged from shops and markets to get a better look at the Winged Wonder and his companion sailing through the air.  
  
Spotting the man they were supposed to meet, Hawkman floated slowly to the ground. The Atom's feet hit the earth first, followed by the costumed character that was responsible for his mode of transportation.  
  
People stepped back to study the men who had suddely dropped out of the sky. The stared at the huge wings attached to Hawkman's back.  
  
"I apologize for my countrymen," Sergeant Bara Din told the American crimefighters. "They have never seen a man fly before."  
  
"No need to apologize," Hawkman said smiling to the crowd. "Perfectly understandable."  
  
Sergeant Din tried to convince a pair of scrawny cows to get out of the way. The animals sluggishly moved and the CID agent led the way to the Royal Suite Hotel, where Andrew Edwards had been murdered.  
  
The hotel desk clerk spoke English, so Hawkman and the Atom questioned him while Din spoke to some of the servants on the hotel payroll. The clerk had little to say about Edwards' death. He had been quite astonished when the Briton was murdered. As far as he knew, Edwards had no enemies in India and did not appear to be in possession of anything valuable enough to kill for.  
  
"Of course," the clerk said with a sigh, "India is a poor country and some evil persons would consider life of little value. Whoever killed him must have done so simply to claim his wallet and watch. The police told me these things had been stolen."  
  
"No one heard anything suspicious or noticed any strangers lurking about?" Hawkman inquired.  
  
"I'm afraid not, sir," the desk clerk answered. "It is most unfortunate, but these things happen everywhere. I understand there are many thieves and killers in America that they have different categories of criminals. Muggers, mass murderers and something called a birdwalker."  
  
"Jaywalker," Atom corrected. "Dreadful crime, but what can you expect from us Americans?"  
  
"Many say that Americans are very bad people with atomic bombs and such," the clerk said.  
  
"Of course, America gives India tons of food and billions of dollars," the Atom said with a shrug. "But that's all materialistic rubbish."  
  
"Yes indeed." The clerk nodded. "At least they tip well."  
  
"Well," Hawkman added, "we're not all bad."  
  
"Gentlemen," Sergeant Din began as he approached the Justice Society pair. "I spoke with a bellman who told me the late Mister Edwards was rather fond of a certain tavern of unpleasant reputation. He went there often. The bellman thinks perhaps Mister Edwards was doing some business with a notorious Sikh opium dealer known as Abdul."  
  
"Opium?" Atom frowned. "That doesn't fit the personality profile we read about Edwards."  
  
"Maybe there were some details about Mister Edwards that he managed to keep secret," Hawkman commented. "Or perhaps this is just a nasty rumor being spread by a Hindu or Moslem employee who hates Sikhs."  
  
"If I may say what I think," Sergeant Din said, "we should check on this tavern. It is called the Peacock's Plume. I have heard of it before. A most unsavory place."  
  
"Well," Hawkman said, "the Peacock's Plume appears to be the only lead we're gong to find here."  
  
"Besides," the Atom added, "we do rather well in unsavory places."  
  
"Speak for yourself," Hawkman muttered.  
  
Sergeant Din knew the location of the Peacock's Plume. The tavern was a grim little building sandwiched between a curio shop and dentist's office. A legend above the tavern displayed a faded blue-and-yellow peacock with the name of the establishment written in Urdu and English. The windows were tinted dark yellow.  
  
"These fellows may not speak Hindi," Hawkman remarked.  
  
"Is no problem, sahib," Din assured him. "I speak Urdu and some Punjabi, as well."  
  
"This place probably caters to Moslems and Sikhs," Atom commented. "They may not welcome a Hindu, Sergeant."  
  
"Then I simply won't tell them what my religion is," Din said smiling. "I don't know if you gentlemen are familiar with Islamic taverns. Don't order any drinks with alcohol."  
  
"We wouldn't dream of it while wearin' these costumes," the Atom said.  
  
"Most of these places," Din continued, "only serve coffee or tea, although some Moslems will have some whiskey on hand for foreigners."  
  
"We'll bear that in mind," Hawkman assured him.  
  
"Watch yourselves when we get inside," Din warned. "Some of these taverns can be a bit rough, especially if Abdul is connected with the opium trade."  
  
"Seems reasonable," the Atom agreed. "Let's find out about these guys firsthand."  
  
They walked to the tavern. The door was locked. Din knocked twice, then rapped his knuckles once more. It opened and a tall bearded man with a turban bound around his head appeared. Din spoke to the man and placed an index finger to his teeth. The barman, who appeared to be a Sikh, nodded and tugged at his ear with thumb and forefinger. He looked at Hawkman and Atom, a smile barely visible amid his thick black beard.  
  
"Welcome," he greeted. "My name is Abdul. Please, come in."  
  
They entered the Peacock's Plume. The tavern was drab, with a bare wooden floor and crudely designed furniture. There were three tables and a few chairs that were held together with wire wound around their legs. The bar was a plain wooden counter with tin cans of different coffee and tea blends displayed on the shelves. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room.  
  
Five patrons sat in the tavern. Three men sat at one table, solemnly sipping steaming liquid from china cups. They wore turbans similar to Abdul's headgear. Hawkman guessed the trio were also Sikhs. The other two customers, seated at a seperate table, were clad in dhotis. They were almost certainly Hindus. Whatever sins the Peacock's Plume might be guilty of, discrimination was not one of them.  
  
"Sergeant Din tells me you oddly dressed gentlemen are here to ask me about an Englishman who was recently killed at the Royal Suite Hotel," Abdul began, strolling to the bar. "I heard about the incident. Terrible. He was strangled, correct?"  
  
"That's right," Hawkman confirmed as he approached the Sikh. "What can you tell us about Mister Edwards?"  
  
"I'm afraid I do not know this name," Abdul said as he turned toward Din. "Did you tell them that I knew this unfortunate Englishman, Sergeant?"  
  
"That is what I was told," Din replied, holding splayed fingers of one hand to his chest. "A bellman at the hotel ..."  
  
"Doesn't Abdul remind you of our close friend Degaton, Atom?" Hawkman said smiling. Emphasis was placed on the words "close friend Degaton" -- referring to their longtime arch enemy Per Degaton.  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah," the Atom replied with surprise.  
  
While he was still smiling, Hawkman added, "I believe if Abdul and Degaton ever got together, they would find they had a lot in common in regards to being with us."  
  
Abdul was not a dumb man, he knew Hawkman was on to him and he lunged at the Winged Wonder. Hawkman slashed with his arm, clubbing it across the Sikh's chest. The blow knocked Abdul backward into the bar while the two Hindus at the closest table suddenly jumped to their feet. Both men held yellow silk scarfs knotted in the middle. The Thuggees advanced.  
  
Hawkman promptly kicked the closest attacker in the chest. The man cried out and tumbled into the table. He slid across the top and struck a chair. Man and furniture crashed to the floor.  
  
A long wooden pole suddenly lashed out. It connected with Hawkman's left forearm. A Sikh from the other table attacked the Winged Wonder with a lathi stick. A bamboo fighting staff five feet long, the lathi is a lethal weapon in the hands of an expert, and Hawkman did not assume his opponent was a novice.  
  
The lathi swung toward Hawkman's face. He blocked the attack with his huge arms and swiftly grabbed the stick with his left hand. The American crimefighter held on to the bamboo staff as he lifted himself slightly off the floor and whirled in midair along the length of the lathi to slash his other hand into his opponent's turban-covered head. The Sikh groaned and stumbled off balance. Hawkman quickly yanked the lathi from the man's weakened grasp and rammed the end of the stick into his aggressor's solar plexus. The Sikh uttered a breathless gasp and crumpled to the floor.  
  
The Atom was also busy. Sergeant Din had backed away from the short American hero and held up his hands in surrender. However, the other two Sikhs at the table launched themselves at the Atom, Thuggee strangling cords in their fists.  
  
The costumed fighting pro pivoted and kicked one Sikh in the face, cutting the bridge of his nose. The Sikh collapsed, but his fanatic comrade kept coming.  
  
Without warning, Din seized the Atom from behind. He grabbed the hero's blue cape and yanked it forcibly. The Atom instantly responded by dropping to one knee and leaning forward. Sergeant Din was thrown off balance and tumbled over the Atom's arched back.  
  
The other scarf-wielding Sikh closed in fast and kicked at the Atom. As the Thuggee tried to swing the silk loop of his scarf around the Atom's head, the JSA member raised his left arm and blocked the attack. The Thuggee's fists struck the leather on the Atom's forearms as the little crimefighter shot upright and shoved hard. The Sikh hurtled backward and toppled into a table.  
  
Din picked himself up from the floor and grabbed a chair. He raised the flimsy furniture overhead and attacked the Atom. The American raised his arms to block the chair. The force of the blow struck him in the forearms, where he was well-protected by his leather armbands.  
  
The Atom stepped to the side of his opponent. The American lashed a boot to Din's abdomen, kicking the Indian under the right rib cage before Din could swing the chair again. Din doubled up with an agonized groan.  
  
Atom chopped the side of his hand across the back of Din's neck and the CID sergeant fell to one knee, trying to break his fall with his hands. Suddenly the Atom grabbed Din by the collar and the back of his belt. The American darted to the bar and shoved his opponent, ramming Din's head into the base of the counter. The Indian's body slumped unconscious to the floor, blood oozing from his skull.  
  
The American caught a blur of movement out of the corner of an eye and ducked as a Sikh Thug tried to wrap his scarf garrote around the Atom's neck. The killer pulled hard, startled to find the knotted cloth had caught nothing but air.  
  
The Atom quickly drove a shoulder into his assailant's midsection and grabbed the man's legs. He straightened his knees for leverage and scooped up the distressed Thuggee. Using his shoulder for additional leverage, Atom stood and hurled the Sikh head over heels. The strangler screamed as his back smashed into the edge of the bar. The Thuggee slumped over the counter and fell to the floor, his back broken.  
  
Abdul and the last Hindu Thuggee were trying to launch a fresh attack on Hawkman. The Winged Warrior still held the lathi stick. Abdul appeared to be armed only with his muscular physique, and the Hindi still held his silk garrote. The killers charged, hoping to catch Hawkman off balance with a two-pronged attack.  
  
The American super-hero feinted a roundhouse stroke with the lathi. The Hindu held up his fists, forming a silk bar with the taut scarf to try to protect his head. Hawkman immediately altered his tactics and thrust the lathi like a cue stick. The bamboo tip caught the Hindu under the jaw. The Thuggee dropped his strangler's scarf and stumbled backward, both hands clamped around his injured jaw. The man's mouth opened, spilling crimson drool across his chest. Then he wilted to the floor, unconscious.  
  
Abdul did not care to take on Hawkman hand to hand. He suddenly scooped up a table and hurled it at the JSA chairman. Hawkman tried to block the flying furniture with the lathi, but he was not accustomed to the bamboo staff. He managed to prevent the table from delivering a crippling blow, but the impact knocked him off balance. Hawkman fell on his back, still clutching the lathi.  
  
With a roar of victory, Abdul charged, determined to crush the American. Hawkman quickly thrust the lathi between his attacker's legs and whipped the stick upward. Abdul's battle cry became a high-pitched shriek as his testicles burst open from the ruthless tactic. He doubled up in agony.  
  
The Atom moved behind the Sikh and clasped his both hands together. He swung a powerful blow between Abdul's shoulder blades. Abdul groaned and fell forward to receive a bamboo swat in the face as Hawkman lashed out with the lathi. As the Sikh fell on all fours, Atom seized the man's hair and yanked his head back to slam a knee under Abdul's jawbone. The Sikh sprawled on his back, unconscious.  
  
"Are ya alright, Hawk?" the Atom asked. He did not offer to help Hawkman to his feet. The Justice Society leader would have been offended.  
  
"I'm fine," Hawkman assured him. "Didn't take us too long to find some Thuggees, did it?"  
  
"Didn't take 'em too long to find us, either," the little crimefighter mused. "How the hell did ya know it was a trap and Din was in league with the Thugs?"  
  
"I did a bit of research on the Thuggees," Hawkman explained. "They used a series of secret hand signals. I was suspicious of Din when he knocked on the door by rapping twice and then a delayed third knock. Sounded like a coded signal. Then I recognized a number of hand signals used by both Din and Abdul. When Din held his hand to his chest with his fingers splayed -- the signal to kill -- I figured there was no room for further doubt."  
  
"Sure glad you and Mid-Nite did all that research. Too bad the Doc couldn't come with us to India. Looks like we need all the help we can get," Atom said.  
  
"Doctor Mid-Nite had another case that required his attention," reminded Hawkman. "But I think we have enough manpower to handle this mission."  
  
The Atom said, "I don't think Colonel Sangh will be very pleased to find out one of his men was an agent for the Thugs."  
  
"Hard to get good help these days," Hawkman said with a shrug.  
  
To be continued ... 


	5. Chapter 5

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"I still find this so very hard to believe," Colonel Sangh said, shaking his head with dismay. "How could Sergeant Din be a Thuggee? We checked his background most carefully before accepting him into the Criminal Investigation Department."  
  
"No personnel checks are fail proof," Hawkman replied as he stood beside the CID colonel's desk. "You're always going to get a few paranoids, psychopaths and secret fanatics."  
  
"This is terrible," Sangh said, literally wringing his hands like a spinster waiting for the telephone to ring. "I'm no longer certain I can trust the people in my own department."  
  
"Colonel," Hawkman said, "you must be suspicious of virtually everyone, including people on your side or in your organization. They're in a position to cause you the most harm."  
  
"Well," Sangh said with a sigh, "I certainly wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust us now."  
  
"Whatever gave ya the idea we trusted ya to begin with?" the Atom replied as he paced the floor of Sangh's office like a caged lion.  
  
The local police had arrived at the Peacock's Plume a few minutes after the battle with the Thuggees had ended. One of the cops spoke English, and he agreed to let Hawkman call CID headquarters. When Sangh and his men showed up, the police happily relinquished the case to the CID. Cops throughout the world have one common trait -- they do not want to get involved in a political incident.  
  
After tearing the tavern apart looking for clues, the CID cuffed the losers of the fight and took them to headquarters. Hawkman and Atom flew back to Sangh's office. The CID colonel seemed terribly embarrassed by the incident. The conversation with the Justice Society pair in his office did nothing to ease Sangh's distressed attitude.  
  
"Please don't take offense, Colonel," Hawkman urged, once again trying to help the CID officer save face. "But we have to be suspicious. If you ever want to talk to someone about being suspicious, you should talk to our colleague who is called Batman."  
  
"I just never imagined such things happening within my organization," Sangh admitted.  
  
"Which is exactly why ya were vulnerable to infiltration," the Atom growled. "I just hope the guys you assigned as guides and translators to assist the other members of our team don't turn out to be Thuggees, as well."  
  
Starman, Hourman and Wonder Woman had flown to Calcutta to investigate the murder of Fred Knapp. Two CID agents had accompanied the larger JSA group to Calcutta. Both men were bilingual, speaking Hindi and English. Lieutenant Tagore was also a helicopter pilot, and Sergeant Sar Ray was born and raised in the Bengal region. Hawkman fould little comfort in this information since the Thuggees traditionally recruited most of their members from Bengal.  
  
The telephone on Sangh's desk rang and the colonel hastily answered it. He smiled with relief when he recognized the voice of Lieutenant Tagore.  
  
"The other members of your team are in Calcutta," Sangh told Hawkman. "Should I tell the lieutenant to put one of them on the phone so you may speak with him?"  
  
"Please," Hawkman replied.  
  
Sangh handed the phone to the American.  
  
"Hawkman here," he said into the mouthpiece.  
  
"This is Starman," the voice announced. "We haven't had much luck here. Nobody knows anything about Knapp's death that hasn't already been reported to the police. The most detailed information was Susan Knapp's report to the cops, and it wasn't worth a damn. She described the assassins as 'Indians.' Lot of help that is. The police found the Jeep that the phony guide had used to set up the Knapps for ambush. The vehicle had been stolen a couple of days earlier from a legit tour-guide service. Whoever stole it had enough sense to paint the Jeep a different color, change the license plates and wipe off fingerprints."  
  
"Apparently the Thuggees have learned to appreciate a few changes since the 1840s," Hawkman commented. "I don't like talking freely on an open telephone line, but we've had an incident here. Our CID guide led us right into an ambush."  
  
"Wow," Starman rasped. "Didn't take long for --"  
  
"If the CID men with your group are within hearing," Hawkman said sharply, "be careful what you say. Either one or both of them could be Thugs. For that matter, this line could be tapped. Better get back to New Delhi. I don't like us being seperated like this when the villains are stalking us. Divide and conquer is not just a slogan, it's good strategy."  
  
"Okay," the hero from Opal City said. "We'll head back pronto."  
  
"Be careful," Hawkman warned.  
  
"Right," Starman confirmed. "See you in New Delhi."  
  
Hawkman returned the black receiver to its cradle.  
  
Really, Hawkman," Colonel Sangh said wearily, "don't you think it's a bit excessive to talk about the phones being tapped? After all, we're dealing with a religious cult, not an international spy ring."  
  
"We can't be entirely sure what we're dealing with just yet," Hawkman replied. "But we certainly can't underestimate the Thugs. They've managed to carry out fifty-three murders without being apprehended by the police or the CID. They managed to slip at least one agent into your organization who wasn't detected until today. Cult or not, they function like a highly sophisticated organization that is capable of anything."  
  
"Good point," the Atom agreed. "But ya realize those guys in the Peacock's Plume didn't use guns."  
  
"A sacrifice to Kali has to be without shedding blood," Hawkman explained. "I told you about the legend."  
  
"Right," Atom replied. "They have to kill with a yellow scarf."  
  
"In the past the Thuggees have killed other Indians as well as foreigners. This time, it appears the cult has been selecting only outsiders from the West."  
  
The Atom mused, "The followers of Kali might have decided that Americans are devils such as those mentioned in the legend."  
  
"That wouldn't explain why they're killing Europeans and Britons," Colonel Sangh commented.  
  
"Resentment against the British is hardly new in India," Atom replied. "As long as the Thugs are huntin' down devils, why not include the English devils of the past? You guys haven't gotten along too well with the French, either -- of course, nobody else does. The Thugs might have added them to the list. The other Europeans who were victims might have been mistaken for another nationality."  
  
"That's possible," Hawkman admitted. "But there could be more to this."  
  
"You mean somebody is pullin' the Thugs' strings for another reason?" the dimunitive fighting ace remarked. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time somethin' like this happened."  
  
"If you'll forgive me for saying this," Sangh began, "you two are jumping to conclusions."  
  
"We're not reaching any conclusions just yet," Hawkman corrected. "But we are considering some possibilities. Perhaps you could do us a favor, Colonel."  
  
"A favor?" Sangh said with a sigh, aware that he had little choice about obeying any "request" the JSA might make. "What is it, Hawkman?"  
  
"Please find out the locations of temples and worship halls dedicated to the goddess Bhowani," Hawkman said. "I doubt that any Thuggees would openly worship Kali, but the goddess is also known under several other names that aren't usually connected to the cult of stranglers."  
  
"I'll see what my people can come up with," Sangh answered. "But there are probably hundreds of such temples scattered throughout India and none of them are necessarily connected with the Thuggees."  
  
"I realize that," Hawkman confirmed. "But have your people do a check for anything that may have been reported as unusual activity at any of these temples. Traditionally, the Thugs would chant themselves into a frenzy and then slip into some sort of self-hypnosis. Their priests would carry an odd- looking pickax with a silver blade. They'd communicate using sign language and code phrases. Perhaps some of their people got careless in public. If you don't turn up anything suspicious with Bhowani temples, run a check on temples dedicated to Shiva."  
  
"Shiva?" Sangh glared at the American. "Shiva is one of the great Hindu triad. There are literally thousands of temples erected in his honor."  
  
"I know it's quite a task," Hawkman nodded. "Shiva is the god of destruction and recreation. The Thugs believe Kali to be Shiva's daughter. Her powers are supposed to be quite similar to his. It's possible they'd use the father's temple to worship their goddess."  
  
"Anything else?" Sangh asked, almost afraid to voice the question.  
  
"Yeah," the Justice Society of America chairman replied. "I want you to contact Mister Waldo and pass the same request to the CIA. They like to keep records on everybody and everything. Let's see if the CIA has any interesting oddities that your section might not have on file."  
  
"Or better yet," the Atom added, "if both CID and CIA have reports of strange activity at the same temple."  
  
"Where will you two be?" Sangh inquired.  
  
"We've got a few other things to check on our own," Hawkman said as he moved toward the door. "Don't worry. We'll get in touch with you, Colonel."  
  
"I'm sure," Sangh said, his voice filled with resignation.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Hawkman and the Atom met the other members of the Justice Society of America when they returned from Calcutta. They told their teammates the details concerning the incident at the Peacock's Plume. The heroes of the JSA were crimefighting veterans. They had experienced other missions that seemed to go sour as soon as they began, but that did not make them feel any better about the way things seemed to be going so far in India.  
  
"Great Hera," Wonder Woman muttered, expressing everybody's sentiment. "Who would have thought the evildoers would have agents inside the Indian CID?"  
  
"I should have considered that possibility before Sergeant Din led Atom and me into a trap," Hawkman replied. "After what we experienced with False- Face, I should have suspected something like this might happen."  
  
"Hell, Hawkman," Starman sighed. "You're not Nostradamus. We don't expect you to be able to see into the future like Sandman. We don't even expect you to be perfect all the time."  
  
"That's right," the Atom added. "You're almost always right, Hawk. To tell ya the truth, it gets a bit annoying at times. Though ya still ain't as bad as Batty and Mister Terrific."  
  
Hawkman smiled, warming to the comradery of his teammates. The Justice Society was his family. He would gladly lay down his life for any one of them.  
  
The members of the JSA put their lives on the line every time they set out on a case. Any one of them could be killed before they completed their assignment in India. But they were crimefighters and this was what they were born to do, as surely as an artist is meant to paint and a writer is meant to write. And none of them would have wanted it any other way.  
  
The four men and one woman conversed inside a deserted airplane hangar at a military airstrip on the soutskirts of New Delhi.  
  
"Maybe we shouldn't deal with the CID at all," Hourman suggested. "If the Thugs managed to get one agent inside Sangh's outfit, they've probably got other moles in the organization."  
  
"Well, Lieutenant Tagore and Sergeant Sar Ray didn't lead us into a trap in Calcutta," Starman remarked.  
  
"They haven't yet," Wonder Woman replied. "I don't care much for that rude Mister Waldo, but I think I'd feel a little more secure if we were just working with CIA on this case. But there might be double agents inside the CIA, as well.. Any organization that gathers covert information in a foreign land has to use native 'cutouts.' That means there are a lot of Indians on the CIA payroll. Besides, the Thugs aren't the only people who know how to put a mole in place."  
  
"I think I know what you mean," Hourman commented thoughtfully. "It's funny that all the victims of the Thuggees have been nasty capitalists from the decadent West. I don't care if these guys worship Kali and use silk garrotes instead of bombs and guns. The Thuggees are still acting like murderers being manipulated by an expert puppet master."  
  
"If that's true," Starman mused, "Who do think it might be? Anyone we know or have been up against before? How about the Thinker? Or Ultra-Humanite?"  
  
"I doubt that the Thinker is responsible," Hawkman said. "This is not his style. He's more involved, not so much pulling strings. He's more 'hands- on.'"  
  
"How about Vandal Savage? It's like him to stay behind the scenes and manipulate underlings," the Atom declared.  
  
"Okay," Starman said. "Let's assume for a moment that Vandal Savage is behind this Thuggee business. Why?"  
  
"To have an army of fanatical assassins to do his bidding," Hawkman began. "India also has lots of internal problems between Hindus and Moslems and militant Sikhs who want a seperate country. This country is not in very good political or economic condition. Perhaps Savage figures he might be able to carve out a little real estate of his own. If the murders that the Thuggees commit can drive a wedge between the West and India, his chances of being able to take over some Indian territory look pretty good."  
  
"It'd be a sly move," Atom added. "With Western nations unhappy with the Indian government, no one is likely to come to their aid if Savage and an army of Thugs takes over some territory."  
  
"That could lead to a very dangerous situation," Wonder Woman remarked. "A country run by a rogue."  
  
"We might be blowing this whole thing out of proportion," Starman said. "But we'd better take care of these Thuggees PDQ -- just in case we've guessed right."  
  
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman groaned. "And we can't trust the people we're forced to work with."  
  
"We can't operate entirely on our own here," Hawkman responded. "We're pretty much deaf, dumb and blind here without help from insiders. We don't have any choice. We have to work with the CIA and the Indian CID. We just can't trust them too much."  
  
"What about questioning the prisoners being held at CID headquarters?" Hourman suggested. "Abdul and the other Thugs?"  
  
"Abdul is in a state of severe shock," Hawkman replied. "I'm afraid the Atom and I bashed him a bit too hard. The other fellows weren't hurt much."  
  
"I'll get Lieutenant Tagore to translate for me," Wonder Woman announced. "Any of the prisoners I question will be compelled to tell me the truth thanks to my golden lariat."  
  
"Well," the Justice Society chairman began, "let's get something to eat before we go back to the trenches."  
  
"Hey, I wonder if it's okay to drink the water here," Hourman said.  
  
"We'll let you drink and watch what happens to ya, buddy," the Atom said jokingly.  
  
"Nice to have friends you can count on," Hourman said.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Wonder Woman examined the Thuggee locked in cell in the basement jail of the Indian DID building. After trying for several minutes, the amazing Amazon decided that even with the magical lariat, the man was not going to tell her what she wanted to know. None of the prisoners had told her anything she didn't already know.  
  
"Lieutenant Tagore tells me that the men just sit on the floor of their cells and meditate," Wonder Woman told the other members of the JSA as she joined them in a small officers' lounge. "They chant softly, repeating 'Kali' over and over. They won't answer any of my questions. It's like their minds don't belong to them. They won't even tell the Indian authorities if they're hungry or thirsty. I think the Indians have been a little rough with them, but that didn't work or the CID isn't tell us what they said."  
  
"The guys are fanatics," Hourman commented with a shrug. "You can't compel a true zealot that way."  
  
"My magical lariat has always worked," Wonder Woman repeated. "But the subjects do appear to be demented. They even claim to have seen the goddess Kali, or maybe it was a statue of Kali the goddess had brought to life. Tagore tells me the men weren't sure which it was. They said Kali's arms were moving like an octopus."  
  
"They're nuts all right," Hourman remarked.  
  
"We might have another decent lead, thanks to the record check by the CID and the CIA," Hawkman put in.  
  
"Which they wouldn't have done if you hadn't twisted their arms," the Atom growled.  
  
"The CID had a police report from Bombay filed away," Hawkman told Wonder Woman. "A begger apparently heard voices chanting inside a Bhowani temple. Although it was late at night, the begger decided to enter and ask for alms. Inside, according to this fellow, the temple was full of worshippers. When he called out for alms and extended a palm, somebody grabbed him from behind and began to throttle him with a cord."  
  
"Sounds like somebody doesn't like to be disturbed," Starman commented.  
  
"The begger said a number of other Bhowani followers approached," Hawkman continued. "Some of these carried yellow cloth knotted at the center. However, a voice suddenly shouted to the assailants to release the begger. Naturally he bolted from the temple and went to the police. Nobody took his story very seriously."  
  
"He was poor and from the wrong caste," Wonder Woman said grimly. "I'm surprised the CID bothered to keep the report."  
  
"I think they still had it on file by accident," Hawkman replied. "Probably forgot the throw it out ... fortunately for us."  
  
"Didn't the CIA also have something on the same temple?" Starman asked.  
  
"Yes," Hawkman confirmed. "But it isn't as dramatic. Just a few entries in a log about a large number of Bhowani followers congregated in the place between the hours of ten p.m. and four in the morning. CIA thought it might be a covert political rally of some sort, but they weren't terribly interested, either."  
  
"Well," Hourman said with a grin, "sounds like maybe somebody should look into it."  
  
"We will," Hawkman answered. "But keep in mind that these people might be perfectly innocent. No stormtrooper tactics. We'll find out if these fellows are Thuggees and handle the situation accordingly."  
  
"We understand," the Atom assured him. "Let's go and pay these guys a little visit."  
  
To be continued ... 


	6. Chapter 6

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Bombay is one of the largest, most densely populated cities in India. It is also a major seaport and trade center, with harbors always crowded with ships and boats transporting everything from passengers and luggage to steel and petroleum.  
  
The Justice Society members arrived in Bombay a few hours after sundown, and Lieutenant Tagore accompanied them as the team approached the Temple of Bhowani. The CID officer was only vaguely familiar with Bombay, but he was still better at finding his way around the city than the JSA would have been if they tried to negotiate the crowded streets on their own.  
  
Tagore was a tall gaunt man with a trim black beard and coal-black eyes. He had formerly been a member of the 10th Indian Parachute Battalion and trained as a commando paratrooper. He had a good record with the CID, and the Justice Society members had decided Tagore was an unlikely candidate to join the cult of Kali. One reason was that the lieutenant was an atheist.  
  
"The only function of religion is social control," Tagore remarked. "It is supposed to set down spiritual guides for moral and ethical behavior, but in India we have too many different religions, none of which get along. Religion is the cause of half the disputes throughout the world, not just here in India. Look at the Middle East. There is constant fighting between Jews, Moslems and Christians. Or look at Ceylon, right at the tip of India. More than half the population are Buddhists and most of the others are Hindus. They're constantly fighting down there. If there is a God, he must surely be disgusted with the whole lot by now."  
  
Tagore's attitude had not made him popular with his men, who were mostly pious Hindus, but he certainly did not sound like a man who would be in league with the Thuggees. The lieutenant drove a rented Volkswagon minibus past the Temple of Bhowani, and the JSA got their first look at the place.  
  
The temple was made of gray brick with a tar-patch roof and wooden shutters on the windows. Two grim-faced Indians stood guard at the front of the temple. They were dressed in white with yellow turbans on their heads. Neither man appeared to be armed, although they were large enough to physically intimidate anyone who might approach the temple.  
  
"Lieutenant," Hawkman said, "find a parking space. Somewhere out of view from the temple guards, but not more than a block from the building will be ideal."  
  
"I think we'll find what you want right around the corner," Tagore replied, turning the steering wheel to the right.  
  
"Starman and Atom will take out the sentries," Hawkman said. "Remember, this might be a harmless collection of Hindus worshipping Bhowani. Handle the sentries as innocent bystanders. Don't use force unless there's absolutely no choice. Understand?"  
  
The others nodded.  
  
"Everybody knows what to do," the JSA chairman remarked. "So let's get to work!"  
  
Starman pulled his Cosmic Rod out the holster that was on his right hip. The Atom flexed his fingers, getting himself ready for a possible fight. Both men climbed from the VW minibus and headed for the temple.  
  
The Atom went first because he was always the first one into battle.The two heroes were grateful that most of the buildings on the street were jammed together. This created a long, consistent patch of shadows. Starman and Atom moved along the walls, making the most of the natural camouflage.  
  
One of the guards at the Temple of Bhowani stared at the shadows. The Atom and Starman froze. They blended into the darkness as best they could. The second guard said something to his partner.  
  
Starman pointed his Cosmic Rod at one of the guards. Using the rod at its lightest setting, a bright yellow beam of light emanated from the tip. The beam struck the guard and he stumbled backward and fell against a wall. The guard slumped unconscious to the ground as the Atom dashed foward.  
  
The American crimefighter ran toward the surprised sentry. Starman followed his partner's example. As the guard opened his mouth to shout a warning to the others inside the temple, the Atom suddenly dived forward and hit the ground in a fast shoulder roll. His tumbling body clipped the guard's shins and knocked his feet out from under him.  
  
The guard's cry of alarm became a muffled grunt as he toppled forward. He tried to rise, but Starman closed in swiftly and hammered the bottom of his fist between the man's shoulder blades. The sentry fell flat on his belly. Starman used his Cosmic Rod beam to knock out the man. After being hit by the beam, the man sighed as he slipped into an involuntary slumber.  
  
The other members of the JSA and Lieutenant Tagore advanced. Starman and Atom quickly bound the sentries' ankles and wrists with some handcuffs that Tagore carried and dragged them into an alley next to the temple. Wonder Woman joined the pair while Hawkman, Hourman and Tagore moved to the opposite side of the building.  
  
The Justice Society hoped to get enough information about the congregation inside the temple to learn whether or not they were Thuggees. The crimefighting team did not want to burst inside the temple and disturb an innocent group of Hindus carrying out sincere religious services to the goddess Bhowani. They would try to find out as much as possible without using violent measures.  
  
Hourman swallowed one of his Miraclo pills as Hawkman pried loose a slat in one of the shutters, raising the wooden vent wide enough to peer inside. Lieutenant Tagore moved closer to the window to observe and listen because he was the only member of the team who understood Hindi.  
  
"They're chanting," the CID man announced in a soft whisper. "Asking the great mother goddess for strength and wisdom, courage and purity. Usual nonsense."  
  
"I see the congregation," Hawkman whsipered as he peered through the space in the window shutter. "Rather a mixed crowd. All different castes appear to be represented."  
  
The American noticed several worshippers wore turbans and cowls. A few were women, but the majority appeared to be Hindu men from the lower castes. The congregation was assembled in a great hall that seemed to take up more than half the building. The interior was dimly lit by candles and the scent of an incense floated through the slats to Hawkman's nostrils.  
  
He shifted his head to get a better look at the rest of the worship hall. Hawkman saw an altar at the end of the room. A priest dressed in a yellow robe and holding a pickax with a silver head addressed the congregation. Beside him on a pedestal was the brass figure of Bhowani -- or Kali -- with numerous weapons clutched in her eight fists.  
  
"The priest just said, 'Kali demands action, Kali demands sacrifice,'" Tagore told Hawkman and Hourman. "Now he's talking about how Kali slayed the devils."  
  
"He's referring to the goddess as Kali instead of Bhowani?" Hourman asked eagerly.  
  
"Both names are used for the same goddess," Hawkman explained. "That doesn't mean they're Thugs, but this is looking more and more suspicious by the second."  
  
"The priest has announced it's time to sacrifice a demon to Kali," Tagore declared.  
  
Hawkman peered through the peephole as two Indians dragged a white man to the altar. The prisoner's mouth was covered with a gag and each Indian held on to an arm. A third Indian stepped behind the captive and raised a yellow cloth, twisted into a cord and knotted in the middle.  
  
"Let's go!" Hawkman said urgently.  
  
Hourman leaped up to grab the eave of the roof. He swung his body like a pendulum and launched himself feet first at the shuttered window. The flimsy wooden slats burst on impact as the crimefighter's feet smashed into the shutters. He plunged through the window and nimbly landed inside the temple among a dozen followers of Kali.  
  
Two startled Indians turned to face the American hero who had nearly landed on top of them. Hourman thrust out a boot, kicking a Thuggee as one might a door. The Indian hurtled backward into several other zealots. Another Thug reached for the "Man of the Hour." The crimefighter's left hand chopped his opponent's nearest forearm and swiftly snapped a backfist to the Thuggee's face. She fell to her knees, blood trickling from the nostrils of a broken nose.  
  
Wonder Woman smashed through another shuttered window at the opposite side of the room. The Amazon warrior literally landed on a Thuggee, her feet slamming into the man's back. The stomp drove the Indian to the floor. Wonder Woman was thrown off balance as more startled Thugs leaped to their feet. The female warrior from Themyscira twisted her body in midair to throw a flying body block into two Indians. All three bodies fell to the floor, with Wonder Woman on top.  
  
The Justice Society member was on her feet first as two more Indians closed in fast. Wonder Woman slashed her hand in a fast backhand sweep, swatting it across an opponent's face. The amazing woman whirled with the motion and delivered a spinning kick to the other attacker's chest. Both Thuggees fell to the floor.  
  
Starman fired a blast from his Cosmic Rod into the ceiling, blasting a shower of plaster dust across the congregation. The Thuggees recoiled from the strange beam of power that emanated from the device in Starman's hand. The congregation backed up toward the center of the prayer hall. Lieutenant Tagore appeared at the window and shouted in Hindi, ordering the Thugs to surrender.  
  
Starman aimed his Cosmic Rod at a door and blasted it open with a bright yellow beam. The Atom rushed through the entrance.  
  
The Thuggees stood like a convention of department store dummies, frozen by surprise rather than fear. The priest yelled at his followers, gesturing with the ornate pickax. None of the members of the JSA understood what he said, but they did not need Tagore to translate.  
  
The two Thuggees who held the white captive did not release him, and the man with the scarf suddenly swung his silk garrote around the prisoner's neck. The strangler crossed his wrists, tightening the scarf and forcing the knot into his victim's windpipe.  
  
Most of the other Thugs attacked the men of the Justice Society. Only a handful of zealots armed themselves with cloth garrotes. The rest simply lunged forward with fingers arched like claws. They literally attacked the American crimefighters with their bare hands.  
  
"Great Hera!" Wonder Woman exclaimed as she watched the fanatics attack her teammates.  
  
Many of the Indians looked at the scantily-clad woman and hesitated, unsure of what to do. She was an enemy but their rules forbid harming a woman.  
  
Wonder Woman made the decision for them and moved into action without hesitation by slamming a powerful fist into the chest of the closest kill- crazy lunatic.  
  
The incredible Amazon swung a fist toward the next opponent and punched him in the stomach. The Thug doubled over and then fell to the floor.  
  
Over on the other side of the room, hands clawed at Hourman's arms, pulling hard. A Thuggee gripped each arm and twisted as a third Indian smiled up at the cowled man. He held a yellow scarf.  
  
Hourman smiled back at the Thug. The "Man of the Hour" launched a snap kick to the Thug's groin. His boot crashed into the guy's groin with agonizing force. The Thuggee wheezed like a sick cow and clasped both hands to his mashed balls as he wilted to the floor.  
  
Suddenly a streak of yellow flashed past Hourman's eyes. He felt a silk garrote close around his throat. Another Thuggee had gotten behind him an applied his deadly strangler skills. The other two fanatics still held the super-hero's arms as the killer tightened the cord around Hourman's neck. A terrible pressure dug into the American's windpipe as the knot containing a silver rupee threatened to crush his Adam's apple ...  
  
To be continued ... 


	7. Chapter 7

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
The Atom burst through the door that Starman had blasted open. His target was the Thuggee strangler who was throttling the hapless captive who had been chosen for sacrifice by the cult of Kali. Atom concentrated on this single adversary and failed to notice Hourman was in the same deadly predicament.  
  
The diminutive American crimefighter swung a fist that plowed into the side of the Thuggee's skull. As the man began to fall, one of the other Indian's who was holding an arm of the man being strangled attempted to catch his cohort. He was unable to catch the man in time as he slumped to the floor.  
  
Thugs charged at the Atom, two using their empty hands and one holding a silk garrote. Atom did not hesitate. He promptly hit the closest aggressor with a punch to the chin.  
  
A yellow cord whipped out and curled around the Atom's wrist like a snake. The Thuggee caught the loose end in his fist and yanked hard. The knotted rupee squeezed, and Atom cursed under his breath as he tried to regain control of his own arm.  
  
"Sneaky jerk," the American growled, slashing the side of his left hand into the nerve cluster behind his opponent's collarbone.  
  
The blow doubled the man up, and the Atom rammed a knee into the Thug's gut. His moan and pain was music to the American's ears as he yanked his right arm to pull the clinging scarf from the Indian's weakened grasp. Atom slammed his fist into the man's face, sending him into an awkward shuffle across the floor.  
  
The third Thuggee lunged at the JSA member's throat, fingers arched like talons of a murderous vulture. The Atom thrust his arms between the Indian's hands and batted them against the insides of the man's wrist before he could apply a choke hold.  
  
The American executed a double thumb jab, stabbing the tips of his thumbs into the carotid arteries of his opponent's neck. The Indian convulsed as if struck by an electric shock. The Atom quickly clapped open palms against the Thug's ears and followed through with a fast chop across the bridge of the nose. The Indian fell senseless, but three more Kali zealots launched themselves at Atom.  
  
"Dammit!" the American hissed as readied himself for the onslaught.  
  
The Atom suddenly dropped to one knee and punched a fist upward, striking one of his assailants in the midsection. The attacker hopped and twisted into the other two men who were approaching. All three fell to the floor in a twitching tangle of arms and legs.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Hawkman had also been confronted by a tidal wave of Thuggee attackers. The Winged Wonder from New York City grabbed a chair and slammed it into three Thugs. The trio shrieked in agony and crumpled to the floor. Three more Kali crackpots immediately took their places. One Thug even used the body of one of his injured comrades for a springboard.  
  
The guy literally dived at Hawkman, pouncing like a deranged leopard. Unfortunately, he did not know that the JSA chairman could really fly. Hawkman quickly rose into the air and the man went flying underneath, tackling nothing but air. The man landed on the floor hard.  
  
"Great Scott," Hawkman muttered as he came back to the ground and saw two more Thugs closing in fast.  
  
They were on him so quickly that he did not have time to respond properly. His hand slapped his belt as one Thuggee swung a silk loop at his head. Hawkman's arm rose swiftly, an ancient short sword in his fist. The razor- sharp edge of the thick six-inch blade slashed the Thug's wrist, nearly chopping his hand off as it sliced through skin and muscle. The blade cut deep into bone, piercing to the marrow.  
  
The Thuggee screamed as blood jetted from severed arteries. His hand dangled uselessly from the maimed wrist and his scarf flapped like a flag of surrender in his other fist. Hawkman executed a swift, graceful kick into the man to send him flying to the floor in pain.  
  
The winged crimefighter rose into the air fast. Before another Thug realized what had happened to his comrade, he tried to jump into the air and reach at Hawkman. The Indian jumped a few times and then glanced at the other Kali disciple that Hawkman had struck with his sword. Blood was flowing from the man's dangling wrist. The horrifying sight distracted the amateur assassin for a split second.  
  
This was all the time a crimefighter like Hawkman needed. His left hand slashed a cross-body stroke, the hard edge of his hand smashing the Thug above the upper lip. The blow dazed the Indian and made him stagger two steps backward. Then the Winged Wonder lunged at the man and struck the Thuggee under the sternum. The Indian gasped in pain from the powerful blow and fell to the floor.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Starman had faced another wave of Thugs near the front door. The poker- faced super-hero calmly accepted the challenge and handled it swiftly and efficiently. The Man of the Night lowered the aim of his weapon and fired at his attackers' legs. The Cosmic Rod glowed like an angry beast from the depths of hell.  
  
A beam of energy emanated from the rod and lifted a Thuggee into the air and unceremoniously dropped the man to the ground with a resounding thud. Another blast from the rod threw another Kali into a wall. A third volley from the amazing device merely blasted another Indian into unconsciousness.  
  
A Thuggee wearing a red turban decided the infidels were not sent as sacrifices for Kali. He clearly intended to shed blood as he hurled himself at Starman, a large curved knife in his fist.  
  
The crimefighter raised his Cosmic Rod and sent a blast into the knife artist's chest, and the impact hurled the Thuggee six feet to collide with two of his comrades, knocking them to the floor. Another maniac cult member immediately attacked Starman. The American super-hero glimpsed his assailant and slashed a rapid sweep with the Cosmic Rod, slamming the tip of the rod across the idiot's face. The Thug dropped to floor with a lot of broken bones in his lower face.  
  
A Thuggee suddenly sprang upright, a silk garrote held in his fists. He raised the strangling cloth overhead and tried to rush Starman. The hero quickly raised his Cosmic Rod, holding the device to form a solid bar. The killer's wrists struck the metal frame of Starman's blaster, the yellow scarf flopping harmlessly against the rod. Starman's boot lashed out and caught the guy just above the scrotum. The kick ruptured the Thug's bladder and put a dent in his colon. The Thug folded up in agony, and Starman clubbed his opponent across the back of the skull with the bottom portion of the Cosmic Rod.  
  
Four hands reached for Starman. The crimefighter in red tried to move back to swing his Cosmic Rod at the two attackers, but the Thuggees grabbed the seemingly magical device. One Indian seized the middle of the rod while the other held the top. The fanatics pulled forcibly, trying to wrench the weapon from Starman's grasp, but the hero was built like a young bull and clung to the Cosmic Rod.  
  
The muscular JSA warrior probably would have won the tug-of-war contest, but he realized other opponents might attack while he was struggling with the two aggressors. Starman activated the rod and both men were severely jolted like they were hit by a lightning bolt. The two Indians stumbled backward as Starman quickly put the rod back into his holster. The crimefighter's hands then snaked out. His powerful fingers seized the throats of his enemies and squeezed hard. The Thugs gasped and choked, startled by Starman's unexpected tactic. The American abruptly rolled his brawny shoulders and slammed the Indians' heads together. Their eyes rolled upward, and their bodies fell limp. Starman smacked their skulls together again to be certain both men were unconscious before he released the pair.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Hourman had to act qucikly. The Thuggee who had wound the silk garrote around his neck was well trained in the art of strangulation. Within seconds, the pressure at his throat would render the Man of the Hour senseless or dead. The other two Thugs still held the crimefighter's arms. Nobody was going to save Hourman except Hourman.  
  
What the Indians did not realize was that Hourman had super-strength after swallowing a Miraclo pill. The two Thugs who were holding his arms were the first to go flying through the air as Hourman easily hurled them.  
  
The Kali lunatic who still had the scarf around Hourman's neck cursed in Hindi and pulled harder. The cowled fighting machine reached back over his shoulders and clawed at the strangling cloth, trying to find the Thug's hands. The Indian killer tried to stamp a foot into the back of Hourman's knee. The kick glanced off the super-hero's calf muscle. Hourman responded by stomping a heel into the Thug's instep, snapping it at that point. The strangler grunted and twisted the garrote, trying to pull Hourman off balance.  
  
Then the JSA crimefighter found the Thuggee's hands. He pried at the man's fists until he caught both little fingers. In the movies, a hero might throw the strangler over his shoulder. In reality, this would probably result in a broken neck. But when a hero has super-strength, he can easily throw the villain over his shoulder -- and that's what Hourman did.  
  
The Thug cried out in pain when he landed on the floor in a senseless heap.  
  
However, the other two Thugs had only been dazed after Hourman had thrown them off his arms and they were mad as hell because the American hero refused to be a cooperative sacrifice. One Indian closed in and rammed a fist to the crimefighter's stomach. Hourman barely flinched and raised his right forearm to block the clawing fingers that reached for his throat.  
  
The Justice Society crusader jabbed his left fist at the Thug's mouth and followed with a left hook to the side of his jaw. Even though Hourman had to pull his punches, the Indian staggered back from the blows. Hourman caught him under the jaw with a right uppercut, and the man's head bounced back. The Indian tumbled to the floor out cold.  
  
Fingers clawed into Hourman's costume from behind. The Thug assailant planned to pull the Man of the Hour's head back to get an arm around his throat, but the crimefighter pumped an elbow into the attacker's solar plexus and turned sharply. The Thug held on to a piece of Hourman's cape, and the hero knocked the man's arm aside with a rising block and hammered his right fist under the Indian's ribs. The Kali cultist moaned and shuffled away from Hourman.  
  
The American hero did not let his opponent get very far. He launched a kick at the Indian's groin, and the Thug reached for Hourman's leg, hoping to throw him off balance. But the kick was a feint, and Hourman pulled the attack short and abruptly swung his foot in a fast roundhouse kick. The boot crashed into the side of the Indian's shoulder and launched him flying into a wall. The guy sprawled on his back with a sigh, as if glad to slide into unconscious oblivion.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The priest in charge of the Bombay chapter of the Thuggees had ordered the followers to fight the infidels, but he and his two personal bodyguards chose to flee the temple. The priest's enforcers reached under their robes and drew their old revolvers as the trio ran for the rear exit of the building.  
  
One guard lingered in the worship hall to fire a hasty shot at Lieutenant Tagore. The CID officer had climbed through the window, his revolver held ready. The Thuggee's .38 round hissed within inches of Tagore's right shoulder. The bullet struck the windowsill behind the lieutenant, splintering wood and richocheting against the brick base beneath.  
  
Tagore instantly returned fire. His gun spat a rapid volley of slugs that sliced a diagonal line of bullet holes in the Thuggee's chest. The bodyguard was hurled into the altar of Kali by the impact of the multiple slugs. His corpse fell against the statue of the goddess, knocking the brass figure to the floor.  
  
The priest and the surviving bodyguard retreated into a narrow passage and headed for the exit. Hawkman had already found the rear door, and the Kali priest and his henchman ran for safety only to find the JSA chairman waiting for them.  
  
The Thuggee bodyguard raised his .38 revolver, but Hawkman rose quickly into the air avoiding the man's aim. Two rounds were fired, missing the amazing hero. Hawkman's feet slammed into the man's chest before he could acquire a target. The impact of Hawkman's blow, drove the man into a pile of garbage cans.  
  
The priest called out in horror as he saw his bodyguard smashed to the ground by a winged man. A portly, middle-aged Indian, the priest stared fearfully at Hawkman. He clutched the ritual pickax as if hoping magic would ward off the formidable figure who stood before him. But the man in the strange costume remained.  
  
"It is said every smart businessman in India must learn at least three languages," Hawkman declared. "Do you speak English?"  
  
"Yes, sahib," the priest replied with a humble bow. "Please do not kill me. I am not a man of violence, and I would rather reward you with silver than continue this carnage."  
  
"I am not interested in silver," the hero said.  
  
"But you shall have it, anyway," the priest told him.  
  
With surprising speed for a man of his bulk, the priest slashed the pickax in a cross-body stroke. The silver blade flashed toward Hawkman's head, but the crimefighter was faster. He moved quickly to his right and into the air with amazing speed. The ornate pickax found nothing but air.  
  
Hawkman swiftly slammed his fist down on the priest's right hand, smashing the man's fingers. The Thug leader screamed, but Hawkman ignored him and clamped his hand around the fellow's left wrist. He flexed his muscles with tight, bone-crushing force.  
  
The priest shrieked as his wrist was held in a vicelike grip. The pickax fell to the ground, and Hawkman kicked one of the Thug's feet, tripping the man. The priest crashed on his back, sobbing with pain.  
  
"Look," Hawkman said as he gazed down at the cultist, "we don't have all night. Get up so we can wrap our business here."  
  
To be continued ... 


	8. Chapter 8

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"Your tactics are most distressing, Hawkman," Colonel Sangh said with a sigh. "A battle in the middle of Bombay! You can't just run about beating up people this way!"  
  
"Then how should we be beating up people?" the Atom asked with a sneer.  
  
"Take it easy, Atom," Hawkman said. "You'll give poor Colonel Sangh a heart attack."  
  
Hawkman, Atom and Hourman were meeting with Sangh in the CID man's office. Starman, Wonder Woman and Lieutenant Tagore were interrogating several captives from the Temple of Bhowani. Many of the Thuggees that fought in the battle were badly injured. Many had suffered shock. So the JSA concentrated on questioning the Thugs who were still in relatively good physical condition.  
  
"The Bombay police are very upset about this incident," Sangh declared. "One doesn't raid a house of worship in India. Religion is very important here. Many of our people live only for their religion. The structure of our society is founded on faith. Launching an attack on a temple is most unseemly."  
  
"It was unseemly when the Thugs started to strangle a guy as a sacrifice to Kali," Hourman said with a yawn. "Freedom of religion in India doesn't include ritual murder ... I hope."  
  
"Of course not," Sangh replied. "But law enforcement in India must be concerned with public relations. Religious disputes have caused voilence in India before. Militant Sikhs want their own country, seperate from the rest of India. This has resulted in many acts of violence in recent years. Tales of more government action against religious sects could bring tempers to the boiling point again."  
  
"We appreciate your situation, Colonel Sangh," Hawkman assured him. "But the Thuggee conspiracy might prove to be a far greater threat to India than you realize. In fact, it may be the beginning of a plot that could endanger the safety of the entire world."  
  
"How melodramatic," Sangh commented. "And what proof have you of this theory, Hawkman?"  
  
"Not enough to convince you, Colonel," the Justice Society chairman confessed. "At least not yet."  
  
"Look, Colonel," Hourman began, "We didn't want to fight the Thugs. We intended to make it a recon mission, but we discovered they were about to sacrifice an innocent man to Kali, we had to stop them. Even then we tried to take them without much bloodshed, but they attacked us. There were more than thirty Thuggees in the temple, so we had to use force."  
  
"This fellow the Thuggees were about the strangle," Sangh began. "You took him to the American Embassy, correct?"  
  
"He had been choked unconscious before Atom stopped the man who was strangling him," Hawkman explained. "We revived him and discovered his name is Chad Stoner. Doctor Chad Stoner to be exact. He's attached to the U.S. Embassy, but he came to India to help treat people suffering from longterm respiratory damage to lungs and such. He's living in New Delhi, although he's been making house calls to homes and clinics in many parts of the country."  
  
"We'll need a statement from Dr Stoner," Sangh declared.  
  
"I contacted Bert Waldo," Hawkman continued. "He'll meet with Stoner. He'll get a statement from the doctor, and he'll check Stoner's personnel file to make certain he's not CIA in disguise."  
  
"Does that make a difference?" Sangh inquired.  
  
"It might," the crimefighter replied.  
  
Starman and Lieutenant Tagore wearily entered the office. Hourman poured some black coffee into a cup and handed it to his American friend. Starman thanked him and gratefully gulped down some hot brew.  
  
"Looks like you've had a hard day's night," Hourman said with a grin. "Wear yourself out swinging a rubber hose?"  
  
"Funny," Starman said sourly. "You ought to go down there and help interrogate a bunch of psychos. Even with Wonder Woman's magical lasso, those guys don't make any sense."  
  
"Sometimes the truth doesn't seem to make sense," Hawkman remarked. "What did you learn from our prisoners, Starman?"  
  
"The Thugs chanted a lot," Starman said. "They ignored our questions and kept chanting and praying until Wonder Woman used her magical lasso on them. We questioned seven Thugs under the influence of the lariat. Might as well have talked to just one."  
  
"They must have said something important," Sangh commented, frowning.  
  
"We asked them where the headquarters of the cult of Kali is located," Starman replied. "Every one of the Thugs told us it was at something called mountain of Kali. Okay, so where is the mountain of Kali? The answer from every Thug was that they were blindfolded and handcuffed before being taken to the site of the 'mother goddess.' They arrived at the foot of the mountain where the 'Man without a name' leads the services."  
  
"The man without a name?" Hourman asked. "Sounds like a character from an Italian Western."  
  
"The translation is exactly 'the Nameless One,'" Lieutenant Tagore explained. "The Thugs were referring to their supreme high priest. He is nameless because he speaks for the goddess Kali."  
  
"Yeah," Starman said. "But here's the fun part. The Thugs all claim they actually saw Kali in the flesh. Well, flesh isn't exactly accurate. They described her as resembling a statue that had been brought to life. They claim they saw Kali's arms move and her head turn from side to side."  
  
"Interesting," Hawkman mused. "One of the Thugs from the Peacock's Plume told the same story."  
  
"But he didn't claim he saw Kali kill without shedding blood," Starman remarked.  
  
"What?" Hourman stared at Starman. "They said they actually saw Kali strangle someone?"  
  
"Why not?" the Atom snorted. "With eight arms she ought to be able to hold a victim and strangle him while she's combing her hair and talking to a friend on the telephone all at the same time."  
  
"The Thugs said Kali destroyed a 'British monster' with a fiery beam of holy light," Tagore explained. "The light supposedly dissolved bones and flesh. Of course it did not shed a drop of blood."  
  
"This is beginning to make sense," Hawkman commented.  
  
"I'm glad you think so," Tagore sighed. "It's all silly rubbish from opium addicts if you ask me."  
  
"A goddess who shoots a fiery light that dissolves human beings?" Colonel Sangh remarked, shaking his head. "The whole thing sounds like a legend that the Thugs had convinced themselves is the truth."  
  
"But there is a kind of concentrated light that can burn through solid steel," Hawkman declared. "Or human flesh for that matter."  
  
"A laser," Starman supplied. "I thought of that, too, but this business about an eight-armed living goddess ..."  
  
"That resembled a statue," Hawkman reminded him. "A statue that moves and sounds like a stop-action animated figure in a movie, correct? Standard special effects. But in this case, someone is probably using a mechanical device."  
  
"The goddess Kali is a robot?" Tagore asked with astonishment.  
  
"Something like that," Hawkman replied. "A mechanical figure with a built- in laser cannon."  
  
"But could they fit all those gears and circuits into a robot and still have room for a laser gun?" Starman wondered aloud.  
  
"Witnesses said Kali moved her arms and head," Hawkman said. "What's complicated about that? Clockwork figures do the same thing. That sort of technology has been around since the eighteenth century. Hmmm. Doing the same thing with an electric motor would be child's play to a modern engineer."  
  
"Wait a moment," Sangh urged. "You gentlemen believe someone is responsible for the Thuggees?"  
  
"Let's say our old arch-enemy Vandal Savage," Hawkman replied. "This is beginning to sound more and more like his modus operandi. Even down to using the combination of old and new technology."  
  
"A Westerner plot with a mechanical goddess?" Sangh shook his head. "It's too incredible. How are you going to convince anyone such a thing has happened?"  
  
"Not HAS happened," Hourman corrected. "It's happening NOW. We've put a small group of Thugs out of business, but that won't be enough to make Vandal Savage close up shop in India. He's kept tight security. None of the Thugs know where the mountain of Kali is located. Their claims of magic and mystical orders from a legendary goddess would be laughed out of any serious investigation. Savage doesn't have anything to worry about yet."  
  
"The problem is," Hawkman went on, "when Vandal Savage realizes we're getting close to exposing his scheme, he'll disappear fast."  
  
"We're not close enough to worry him yet," Starman remarked. "Frankly I don't see how we're going to get much closer. Sure as hell won't get any more information from the Thuggees."  
  
"Maybe we should try a different angle," Hawkman announced.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The following morning Hawkman, Starman and Hourman joined Bert Waldo in a conference room inside the U.S. Embassy in New Delhi. The lights were off as the Central Intelligence Agency case officer ran a slide projector, consulting his notes as magnified pictures appeared on the screen.  
  
A thin face with sunken cheeks and deep-set dark eyes appeared on the screen. He wore a straw hat, but a fringe of white hair poked from under the headgear. The man's nose was hooked with a small trim mustache on his upper lip.  
  
"Sam Tikken," Waldo announced. "Professor Tikken, to be exact. Probably the leading authority on laser research in Europe. Helped build the first industrial laser last year. However, lately, Tikken has been working on laser weaponry. He'll go to whoever will pay him."  
  
"And he's in India?" Starman inquired.  
  
"He was," Waldo explained. "This photograph was taken in April. Tikken was in India for about six months, spending most of the time in Calcutta. The professor was reported in Bulgaria just last month."  
  
"Any information about what Tikken was doing in Calcutta?" Hawkman asked.  
  
"We couldn't turn up anything definite," Waldo answered, changing slides. "However, we know a number of other European personnel were in Calcutta and the Bengal region at the time. Including this interesting character."  
  
Another face appeared on the screen. It was the face of a proud man with a heavy beard and sky-blue eyes. His dark brown hair was trimmed short and was gray at the temples. Even in the photograph, the face expressed determination and strong-willed ambition."  
  
Waldo began, "He is known as ..."  
  
The three JSA members each rose out of their seats and said in unison, "Vandal Savage!"  
  
Waldo looked at the heroes.  
  
"We are well acquainted with Mister Savage. He is an arch-villain who we have tangled with many times in the past," Hawkman explained.  
  
"The records don't have much on his personal details," Waldo replied.  
  
"Doesn't matter, we know who we're dealing with," Starman said. "He was seen with the laser expert? Do we know if Savage is still in India?"  
  
"I hate to admit it," Waldo sighed, "but we're not sure. He may have slipped out of the country without our knowledge. We really have very little information on Savage. Little more than a few photographs."  
  
"What about the other European personnel you mentioned? Anything on them?" Hourman asked.  
  
"Most of them were young," Waldo answered. "To be honest, we have little record about them, as well. They entered the country and listed their occupation as construction workers and engineers. Others were supposedly electrictians and radio personnel. However, one of these engineers was indeed someone special."  
  
Waldo worked his projector again. A new face appeared on the screen. A middle-aged man with wide smile and plump cheeks gazed down at them. His nose was wide and dark with broken blood vessels. He looked like a good- natured peasant who was a bit too fond of vodka.  
  
"Professor Nicholas Stringhofer," Waldo said. "One of the top designers and engineers in Germany. This fellow has helped design robots. He's supposed to be pretty clever and specializes in robotic arms."  
  
"Sounds like he wouldn't have any trouble at all building a statue of Kali with mechanical arms," Starman commented.  
  
"Stringhofer flew back to Germany months ago," Waldo said. "But he was in India long enough to complete construction of something like that -- assuming your theory is accurate. The other engineers and technicians who can't be accounted for could certainly carry on without Stringhofer after the thing was constructed."  
  
"All right," Hawkman said. "We don't have any solid details of what Vandal Savage is doing in India, but we all feel fairly certain that Savage is the villain we are dealing with. I assume you know where the engineers and technicians stayed in Calcutta."  
  
"They rented a building," Waldo answered as he switched on the lights. "Calcutta is pretty much the business center of India. Nothing illegal about renting a building."  
  
"Does your file tell us what company rented the building?" Starman asked.  
  
"Let's see," the CIA man began, checking his files. "Oh, God. It wasn't a company. Rajput Ram Sonoka owns the place."  
  
"Who is he?" Hourman asked. "Somebody important?"  
  
"A rajput is the son of a maharaja," Waldo explained. "The guy is Indian royalty. Prince Ram is heir to the position of the third largest maharaja clan in West Bengal."  
  
"I thought the mahrajas fell from grace even before the British pulled out of India," Hourman remarked.  
  
"They don't have any political authority," Waldo answered. "But they still have influence. Royal birth is royal birth, and the government tries to get along with the mahrajas and rajputs."  
  
"We'll try to be diplomatic when we talk to Prince Ram," Hawkman assured him.  
  
"Oh, no," Waldo groaned. "I don't think you should ..."  
  
"We'll head to Calcutta as soon as possible, Mister Waldo," Hawkman told him. "Can you arrange a CIA contact in the city if we need one?"  
  
"Yeah," Waldo said, misery in his tone. "I just hope you costumed guys know what you're doing."  
  
"We try," Hourman said cheerfully. "Oh, any messages you'd like us to give the prince?"  
  
"The United States government is not responsible for anything the JSA breaks," Waldo muttered.  
  
To be continued ... 


	9. Chapter 9

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Morarji Shastri decided Australia would be an ideal place to start his new life. The little Indian had heard conflicting stories about the Land Down Under. Some said Australians did not welcome dark-skinned foreigners. Others said Australians were friendly toward everyone, regardless of color. Shastri did not worry. A rich man is welcome anywhere, regardless of his skin shade or ethnic background.  
  
Money talks a universal language of respect. Shastri had learned this lesson as a child. The rich did their best to keep the wealth limited to themselves in India. They married into one another's families. They gave financical support to the candidates who best represented their interests. They gave lip service to the plight of the poor and generally blamed conditions on the oppressive British, whose regime in India had ended about fifteen years ago, or on the selfish capitalist Americans who had only given India a couple of billion dollars in foreign aid when everybody knew they could afford to give trillions.  
  
Shastri had also noticed that the most honored and respected of all the higher castes were the priests and other religious leaders. The most famous and influential leader in India had undoubtedly been Mahatma Gandhi. He was not known for his wealth or his strategic wisdom but for his spiritual insight. He was more a religious leader that a statesman. Even the British had feared him, although Gandhi preached nonviolence. Of course, the British had not wished to slaughter millions of Indians to crush Gandhi's following. Shastri often wondered what would have happened if Gandhi had used such tactics with Adolf Hitler.  
  
The Nazis would have killed Gandhi and anyone who had supported him. They would had burned Indian pacifists in ovens or marched them into gas chambers. Shastri suspected Mahatma Gandhi would have become an obscure martyr under those conditions. Indians still quoted Gandhi, and his memory was honored and praised throughout the world. But what had happened to the united India of Gandhi's dream, of his hopes for a self-sufficient and peaceful India?  
  
Hindu, Moslem and Sikh remained bitter enemies. India could not feed its people or clothe its poor. Since Gandhi's death India had gone to war with Pakistan and been plagued with internal violence. All that Gandhi had stood for did not last in India. Pacifism might be a lofty principle, but it certainly did not make successful long-term politics.  
  
Yet Gandhi was still beloved and respected because he had been a religious leader who took a political stand. Every religion in India honored Gandhi, although few practiced what he taught. The English even made movies with Gandhi as the hero and British as villains. In America, other religious leaders copied Gandhi's example and became more involved in political and social movements.  
  
The benefits of being a religious leader were many. It was a way for a man to become wealthy, powerful and famous. Shastri had no interest in fame. He would be happy just to be rich and powerful.  
  
However, Shastri had not planned to revive the Cult of the Thuggees. He had originally formed a rather small sect of gullible young idiots who regarded him as a guru teaching spiritual oneness with the universe. Shastri's religious training also consisted of making his followers surrender all worldly possessions. Naturally they gave this earthly trash to the guru to dispose of. They were also forced to go days without eating or sleeping. They learned monotonous chants and complex rituals.  
  
After his followers had become totally brainwashed into following the guru's every order, Shastri sent them out to steal for him. The religious thieves brought their leader numerous wallets, rings, watches and assorted jewelry. The plan seemed to be working out fine until one of his thieves handed Shastri a particular passport.  
  
In less than an hour the passport owner had located Shastri's little cult. Five angry men had kicked down the door. The attackers had silencers on their pistols so they could shoot down Shastri's followers without making too much noise. Then one of the assailants aimed his weapon at Shastri's sweat-covered face.  
  
"You're the leader, aren't you?" the bearded gunman asked in accented Hindi.  
  
"No, no," Shastri replied, his teeth chattering with terror. "I am innocent ..."  
  
"No one is innocent," the gunman said with a smile. "I have no use for an innocent man who would bear witness to our actions. However, a shrewd false prophet who can convince Indians that committing crimes is a religious experience ... such a man may indeed be useful to me."  
  
"All right," Shastri sobbed, closing his eyes so he would not see the shot that was about to kill him. Yet he had nothing to lose by confessing. "I am a guru."  
  
"Good," Vandal Savage said as he lowered his gun. "I want to make you an offer, and if you want to live you won't refuse."  
  
This was the beginning of Shastri's partnership with Savage. Vandal Savage needed a false guru for his plot to revive the Thuggees. Shastri was perfect for the role. Now, almost two years later, the Cult of Kali numbered more than three hundred. The scarf-wielding killers stalked their prey from one end of India to the other. They blindly carried out the orders of their goddess and the words of their holy leader, Morarji Shastri.  
  
Vandal Savage was clever, Shastri admitted. He had made Kali move and turn her head. The laser beam was a brilliant addition that certainly made an impression on ignorant Indians who thought atomic energy was similar to coal and cars were powered by small animals hidden beneath the hood. But Savage could never have put the cult together without Shastri. Vandal Savage needed him and they both knew it.  
  
However, Shastri's instincts told him it would soon be time to get the hell out. The farther away he could get from West Bengal, the better. Australia ought to be far enough, and with a fortune in gold Shastri could live like a king for the rest of his life without working another scam again.  
  
"Shastri!" Vandal Savage shouted from the control center inside Kali mountain. "Come here, damn you! We've got a problem."  
  
"What's wrong, my friend?" Shastri asked with a smile as he entered the room. "Did the goddess blow a fuse?"  
  
"I'm in no mood for your stupid jokes, Shastri," the arch-villain snapped. "I've just received a message from Bombay. The section of Thuggees stationed there at the Temple of Bhowani has been wiped out. Every single Thug there was captured during a raid last night."  
  
"That's impossible," Shastri said with astonishment. "I can't imagine the Bombay police carrying out a raid on a Hindu temple, and the CID had been leaving the investigation of the Thuggee killings in the hands of the local police."  
  
"Not anymore," Savage snapped. "Not since those five troublemakers arrived from the United States. One of our informers inside the CID told me that my old rivals, the Justice Society of America, are in India. Remember? You ought to. That idiot Sergeant Din was one of your flunkies."  
  
"Don't blame that on me, my friend," Shastri said defensively. "Din took it upon himself to lure those two costumed men into a trap at the Peacock's Plume. He probably thought he was very clever. Frankly, you can't blame him for being confident that the trap would work. Seven men against two seems like good enough odds to be sure of the outcome."  
  
"That depends on who the two men are," Savage said grimly. "These are five American super-heroes. If they assaulted the base in Bombay, I'm not surprised the Thugs were wiped out."  
  
"Do you know who these people are?" Shastri asked.  
  
"Do I know their real names?" Savage said with a shrug. "No. But I have done battle with them in the past. Reports coming to me tell of a winged man who flys. That is a hero who goes by the name of Hawkman. There is also said to be a beautiful woman with long dark hair wearing a skimpy red, white and blue costume. That would be Wonder Woman. They are part of a team that stopped a major halocaust last year. This team, known as the Justice Society, ruined a scheme that could've killed millions of people and brought the American government to its knees. They are individuals of extraordinary abilities. Do not underestimate them."  
  
Shastri was surprised that Vandal Savage seemed so worried about this small team of heroes. "Surely, my friend, five people against our entire organization ... they couldn't possibly ..."  
  
"There could be more than five of them. They are large team. There could be more than a dozen and some of them have amazing powers," Savage said.  
  
My friend," Shastri said, shaking his head. "Even if these people are the super-heroes you've fought before, they're just men. Not devils or evil spirits. That's the sort of rubbish the superstitious retards in our cult believe in. We have a small army of assassins. Certainly they can take care of five or even a dozen men."  
  
"You're not listening, Shastri!" Savage yelled. "These people are powerful. In fact, so that you know, one of them IS said to be a spirit. He is called the Spectre. He has amazing, UNLIMITED, powers. Your Thuggees will never get close enough to use those silk scarf garrotes on many of them."  
  
"What do you suggest?" Shastri asked. "I suppose we could arm our cult with guns."  
  
"And become something like an American gangster squad?" Savage asked. "Do battle with the meddlesome heroes in open combat? No. Our operation must be discreet or it will never work."  
  
"You're probably worried about nothing, my friend," Shastri told him. "If these heroes are in Bombay or New Delhi they aren't even close to our headquarters."  
  
"I'm not taking any chances," Savage declared. "I'll alert that bandit chief Bahir Khan to watch out for invaders. No one will associate an attack by Moslem hill bandits with the Cult of Kali."  
  
"I suppose that's true," Shastri agreed.  
  
"Now," Vandal Savage continued, "the only way they could find out where we are is through that pompous monarch ass, Prince Ram. I want you to send your best men to make certain Ram's property is well protected."  
  
"By my 'best men' you can't mean Chopra and Kosti?" the Thuggee leader demanded. "They're my priests. I need them here."  
  
"You were leading the Cult of Kali before they joined us," Savage stated. "You can get along without them now. It is vital that we have competent people in charge of security at Ram's place."  
  
"Chopra and Kosti aren't security experts," Shastri said. "They're former hoodlums pretending to be holy men."  
  
"They're cold-blooded killers," Savage declared. "And that's exactly what I want at Ram's place. If our enemies show their faces there, I don't want ritual strangulation or silly ceremonies. I want them dead. Nothing fancy. Just kill them and make certain every one of those bastards is dead."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The members of the Justice Society of America and Lieutenant Tagore arrived in Calcutta. The largest city in the West Bengal region, Calcutta was the setting for the infamous "Black Hole of Calcutta," where almost one hundred fifty British captives were apparently crammed into a cell eighteen feet long and fourteen feet wide, with only one small window. Supposedly only twenty-three prisoners survived the ordeal.  
  
Rod Lawson met the JSA and Lieutenant Tagore at an airstrip. A native from South Dakota, Lawson was a tall lean man with copper-brown hair and proud features. Lawson was the top CIA case officer in West Bengal.  
  
"We've been told you're one of the best CIA operatives in the field," Hawkman said as they followed Lawson into a hangar. "And you're the best man to tell us about Rajput Ram Sonoka."  
  
"Not much thrilling info on the guy," Lawson said with a shrug. "Ram is the son of Maharaja Morarji Sonoka. The eldest son, which makes him heir to the throne, something that doesn't make the maharaja very happy."  
  
"They don't get along?" Hourman inquired.  
  
"Not at all," Lawson confirmed. "The maharaja is pretty much a traditional Hindu. Worships the great triad -- Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. Prince Ram has been drifting to and from different cult groups. He even attended Buddhist ceremonies for a while. Funny thing is the prince has a nasty streak a mile wide and two miles long. Ram was accused of sexual assault, assault and battery and conspiracy to commit murder, but nobody could ever get enough evidence to make the charges stick. In India, you don't arrest a rajput without a ton of evidence."  
  
"Maybe Ram has been trying to find a religion that will help him control his evil temper," Starman suggested.  
  
"Or one that will allow him to exercise it," the Atom mused. "The guy would fit right in with the Cult of Kali."  
  
"Yeah," Lawson agreed. "The Thuggees. Well, Sonoka, Junior, has his own private estate and the place is crawling with odd characters. The CIA didn't care much what Ram was up to until he rented that warehouse last year. He was pretty chummy with some Europeans that came to India, even had some unknown bearded fellow for a houseguest. We figure Ram might be up to something no good, but he hasn't broken any laws ... at least none that we can prove."  
  
"Does the CIA still have anyone watching Ram's estate?" Wonder Woman asked.  
  
"The CIA hasn't kept regular surveillance on Ram for the last four or five months. Maybe we should have," Lawson replied.  
  
Hawkman asked, "What kind of security does Ram have?"  
  
"He's got about two dozen bodyguards stationed at his estate," the CIA man replied. "Strong-arm types. Back in the States guys like them are breaking legs for loan sharks. Now most of them carry guns, old British revolvers and side-by-side shotguns. Some of them might have rifles, but no automatic weapons unless they've kept the heavy-duty stuff hidden."  
  
"What about alarms?" Hourman inquired.  
  
"Hell, no," Lawson said. "This is India. Hardly anybody puts money into electronic alarm systems. Besides, you guys aren't planning to attack Ram's place, are you?"  
  
"It's possible," Hawkman said with a shrug. "But we'd rather just talk to him, providing he answers some questions and convinces us he's telling the truth."  
  
"Well," Lawson began awkwardly, "how do you plan to arrange a meeting with the prince? Sure, the royalty in India are just figureheads now. They have a lot of ceremony, but no real authority. Still, you can't just knock on his door and ask to see the prince."  
  
"Why not?" the Atom asked with a grin in his voice. "We'll try not to pick our noses in the presence of his lordship."  
  
Wonder Woman frowned at the Atom.  
  
"Are you guys nuts?" Lawson asked, turning to Lieutenant Tagore for an answer.  
  
"I believe so, yes," the CID officer replied with a nod.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Rajput Ram Sonoka's estate was located to the north, about two hundred miles from Ranigan. The terrain was a bit rugged, but the JSA members had no problem getting to where they wanted to go. Tagore and Lawson accompanied the American crimefighters on a dirt road that bisected a bamboo forest. They heard numerous birds chirping and cawing among the slender trees.  
  
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman rasped, pointing at three struggling shapes among the bamboo. "Look at that."  
  
Two large colorful birds were fighting with a snake. The birds resembled toucans with horny fins atop their beaks. They had pinned down the long scaly body of the reptile. The snake raised its head and spread a wide hood at its neck. The birds were not impressed. A beak snapped shut on the cobra's neck, nearly biting its head off.  
  
"Hornbills," Lieutenant Tagore declared as he watched the birds tear the snake apart. "They're omnivorous and generally favor fruit and such to tangling with cobras."  
  
"Looks like they're doing a pretty good job," the Atom commented. "Must have studied under a mongoose."  
  
"When hornbills hunt in pairs," Tagore explained, "one distracts the prey and the other attacks. Then both finish off their opponent. Interesting strategy, eh?"  
  
"Are there many snakes around here?" Wonder Woman asked with a frown. The beautiful Amazon warrior was not terrified of snakes, but would not mind if she never saw one again, either.  
  
"A few," Lawson answered.  
  
"Wonderful," Wonder Woman muttered.  
  
"What about tigers?" Hourman asked, more curious than concerned. "This is the Bengal area, so maybe there are some Bengal tigers around."  
  
"Not very likely in a skimpy little forest like this," Tagore told him. "Tigers generally remain in dense tropical rain forests. Besides, there are probably only a few thousand tigers left in India. They're protected by law from hunters, but the forests are slowly vanishing, and the big cats are disappearing at the same time."  
  
"I just hope you guys know what you're doing, or all of us might be on the endangered-species list," Lawson muttered, turning the steering wheel of the Jeep they were riding in.  
  
Hawkman and Starman flew overhead.  
  
Lawson announced, "We're approaching Prince Ram's estate."  
  
"An iron picket fence surrounded Rajput Sonoka's property. His palace was an odd combination of British and Islamic architecture with a European frame and a tear-shaped dome on the roof. The building was small for a palace, about the size of an English mansion. Four sentries patrolled the lawns behind the fence, all armed with submachine guns.  
  
The two heroes who were flying landed gently on the ground next to the stopped Jeep.  
  
"I thought those guys were suppose to be packing double-barreled shotguns," Atom whispered sourly.  
  
"Somebody decided they needed a little extra firepower," Starman replied. "Funny they should make that decision just before we show up. You don't suppose they're expecting us, do you?"  
  
"Coincidences happen from time to time," Hawkman said.  
  
The Jeep was parked about fifty yards from the front gate. The sentries watched them suspiciously as Hawkman walked around the vehicle and gestured to the others to stay put.  
  
The Justice Society chairman instructed, "If they decide to attack, I don't want it to be easy for them to get all of us in a cross fire. Atom, you like to work at close range."  
  
"It's what I live for, Hawk," the Atom replied with a grin in his voice.  
  
"Then you'll accompany me," the Winged Wonder declared. "I'll also need a translator in case Prince Ram doesn't speak English or he starts giving instructions to his men in a language I don't understand."  
  
"I'll go with you," Lawson said with a sigh. "I'm the logical choice because I speak Hindi, Urdu and Bengali -- the local dialect of this region.  
  
"I'd like to go in with you," Hourman announced as he swallowed a Miraclo pill. "I do my best work up close, too."  
  
"All right," Hawkman agreed. "But the rest of you will stay out here. Now don't jump to conclusions. We don't know that Ram Sonoka is guilty of anything worse than bad taste in the company he chooses to keep. But don't fall asleep out here."  
  
"Don't worry," Wonder Woman assured him. "We will react as warriors should the need arise."  
  
Hawkman, Atom, Hourman and Lawson approached the gate. The guards simply glared at them, hands poised by the triggers of their subguns. Having never seen such a sight before, they studied Hawkman's magnificent wings that adorned his back.  
  
Hawkman smiled at the sentries. "Good afternoon," he greeted. "We'd like to talk to Rajput Ram Sonoka. Is the prince able to receive visitors?"  
  
The sentries seemed confused. One of them spoke into a bulky walkie-talkie. Lawson asked the same question in Hindi and began to repeat it in Bengali, but a guard cut him off with a wave of the hand.  
  
"We understand what you want," the sentry assured him, speaking English with a slight British accent. "Wait a moment, please. We will learn if our master will agree to see you gentlemen."  
  
"Don't you want to know who we are first?" Hourman inquired.  
  
"We know who you are," the guard told him. "You are American super-heroes, yes? Who else would walk around in such strange costumes?"  
  
The man pointed at Hawkman. "Those wings -- can you really fly with them?"  
  
Hawkman smiled again, "Yes, I can."  
  
A static-laced voice on the walkie-talkie issued a curt order to the guards. The sentries exchanged nods and opened the gate. Starman and Wonder Woman, who remained with the Jeep, noticed the gate was not locked.  
  
"You may enter," the English-speaking guard declared. "Rajput Ram Sonoka will see you."  
  
"Thank you," Hawkman replied as he led his four-man group across the threshold.  
  
A sentry escorted them to the front door. A small rat-faced man greeted them at the entrance. The ornate bronze handles of three knives jutted from a yellow sash around his thin waist, but he pressed his palms together at his chest and bowed humbly.  
  
"Welcome, gentlemen," Kosti, the pyscho killer priest of the Thuggees said with a smile. "Prince Ram is delighted to have such honored visitors in his home. Please follow me and I shall take you to him."  
  
Said the spider to the fly, Hawkman thought as he entered the palace of Rajput Sonoka.  
  
To be continued ... 


	10. Chapter 10

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 10  
  
Kosti led the four visitors into a handsome hallway with a black-and-white checkerboard floor and white-washed walls. Brass urns stood in the corners, and a long white marble staircase extended to the second story. Beautiful oil paintings hung on the walls. Most were eighteenth-century Indian art featuring maharajas on horseback or atop elephants with bejeweled tusks. Hawkman recognized the blue-skinned face of Lord Krishna in one painting. A favorite character of Indian artists, Krishna appeared to be courting a woman dressed in silk and seated upon a pile of large pillows.  
  
"Hello, gentlemen," a voice greeted. "I am Ram Sonoka."  
  
A young, slender man dressed in a long silk jacket with a Nehru collar welcomed the three Justice Society members and their CIA ally. A golden turban decorated the rajput's sleek head and several strings of black and yellow beads hung from his neck. Sonoka's right hand rested on the bronze handle of a scimitar. The sword remained in its scabbard as Sonoka used it as a walking stick.  
  
"A great pleasure to meet you, sir," Hawkman replied, approaching the prince. "I apologize for coming here unannounced, and I hope our visit does not find you at an awkward time."  
  
"Not at all," Ram Sonoka assured him. "And I must apologize for my guards. They can be a bit gruff at times."  
  
"No problem," Hourman told him. "We're used to that sort of thing."  
  
"Well," the rajput began, looking at Hourman with disdain, "my men were probably a bit disturbed by your garb."  
  
"This is quite a distance from any towns or cities, Rajput Ram," Rod Lawson stated. "One can't be too careful with bands of robbers roving about and dangerous animals that might wander from the rain forest. In fact, we saw a cobra on our way here."  
  
"It has been my experience that robbers and wild beasts spend most of their time in the cities," Ram said with a smile. "No matter. Please follow me to the drawing room and we'll have some tea while we discuss whatever it is you people have on your minds."  
  
Sonoka led them to a pair of wooden doors at the end of the hall. The rajput slid the doors open and prepared to step into the drawing room. Suddenly Sonoka dashed inside and ran to the cover of a large wing chair.  
  
"Down!" Hawkman shouted as he jumped away from the door.  
  
Atom instantly leaped to the opposite side of the door. Hourman swept an arm to Lawson and threw himself backward. Both men flattened their backs against a wall. A monstrous roar exploded from the drawing room and a great swarm of lead pellets sizzled through the doorway. Several small projectiles tugged at Hourman's costume, tearing cloth. He felt a pellet crease across his chest.  
  
Kosti was less fortunate. The Thuggee priest had ventured too far into the hall, hoping to get a good view of the intended shotgun ambush. The sadist shrieked when buckshot smashed into his upper chest and face. The impact hurled Kosti to the floor, blood dripping from torn flesh.  
  
Hawkman and the Atom began to whirl into action. They spotted three gunmen. The assailants were fumbling with their shotguns and tried to fire another volley of buckshot at the heroes.  
  
Atom had a clear target and went after it. He smashed a fist into the side of a shotgunner's jaw, shattering bone and slicing his tongue in half with the powerful blow. Another punch hit the bad guy's skull, just below the right temple. The man dropped to the ground unconscious.  
  
Hawkman trained his attention on another shotgun killer. He struck the ambusher in the upper torso, and the man's body jerked from the impact, his double-barrel blaster slipping from his grasp. Hawkman quickly hit the man with two more blows from his fists. Both punches slammed into the center of the man's chest. Ribs cracked as the henchman collapsed to the Persian carpet.  
  
Hourman leaped into the drawing room and bent his knees to assume a crouch.  
  
The Man of the Hour sprang forward at the remaining shotgunner. He dived across the threshold, his body low and right shoulder pointed forward.  
  
Hourman hit the carpet, tumbled on his back. The shotgun hit man rose from behind a desk, his buckshot cannon in his fists. The cowled crimefighter hit the man before he could fire his shotgun. Two pulled punches to the man's chin sent him reeling.  
  
The third shotgunner slumped behind the desk in an unconscious lump.  
  
Hourman looked around to make sure there were no other attackers. Suddenly Rajput Ram Sonoka appeared from behind the wing chair. The prince held his scimitar in both fists and raised the naked blade overhead. Hourman raised his arms at Sonoka, but the Indian slashed his sword at the same instant. With enhanced speed thanks to the Miraclo pill, the American hero was able to grab Sonoka's wrists. The sharp steel brushed his cowl. Hourman charged forward and slammed into Ram before the prince could swing his sword again.  
  
Hourman's left hand snared Sonoka's sleeve as he punched his right fist under the Indian's ribs. The JSA muscleman followed through with a solid right cross to Ram's jaw. The rajput groaned as his head bounced from the pulled punch, but he responded by thrusting the tip of his scimitar at Hourman's stomach.  
  
The Man of the Hour sidestepped the stabbing blade and grabbed his opponent's wrist again. He yanked Sonoka's arm downward and slammed it across his knee. The rajput's hand popped open and the scimitar dropped to the floor. Hourman quickly rammed an elbow to Sonoka's breastbone and whipped a backfist to the prince's face.  
  
Sonoka fell back against the wall, blood trickling from his mouth and nose. Suddenly, much to the surprise of Hourman, Ram lashed out a leg and kicked a slipper-clad foot into Hourman's abdomen. The American crimefighter didn't even flinch from the blow.  
  
The rajput bent over to retrieve his scimitar, and as Sonoka's fist closed around the handle of his sword, Hourman stamped a boot on the blade and pinned it to the floor. The JSA member smiled at the prince and suddenly kicked him in the face. Sonoka sprawled on his back as Hourman kicked the sword across the room.  
  
"I think you've had it, your highness," Hourman said.  
  
Ram Sonoka sat up, mopping his crushed mouth with the back of a hand. He spat out a rude remark in Hindi and crawled toward a shotgun. Hourman just shook his head and grabbed the prince from the back. Sonoka screamed as Hourman lifted him off the ground and threw him into a wall. The prince rolled over on his back, moaning.  
  
"Okay, your highness," Hourman sighed. "Try that again and we'll have a royal funeral."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The sounds of the gunshots alerted Starman, Wonder Woman and Lieutenant Tagore that it was time to go into action. Lieutenant Tagore reached inside the Jeep for a submachine gun while Starman pulled out his Cosmic Rod from the holster on his hip.  
  
"Halt!" one of the palace guards shouted as he stuck the barrel of his subgun between the iron bars of the fence.  
  
Two other sentries also aimed their weapons at the Justice Society duo and their CID companion. One of the guards opened fire at Wonder Woman. None of the bullets found their mark because, amazingly, the female Amazon was able to deflect the lead pellets with the protective braclets she wore on her wrists.  
  
Tagore fired his gun, hosing the gate with slugs. Sparks appeared as bullets ricocheted off iron pickets. A sentry screamed as one bullet cut a painful swath across his arm. The guard dropped to the ground as one of his comrades tried to train a subgun on the CID lieutenant.  
  
Using her super-strength, Wonder Woman qucikly bent two iron pickets apart so that she could enter the palace grounds. One of the gunman trained his weapon on her but her super-speed allowed her to hit the guard first. The guy fell face first on the lawn.  
  
Starman aimed his Cosmic Rod at the front gate and an energy beam slammed into the gate, blowing it wide open.  
  
More members of Prince Sonoka's security force immediately appeared. Gunmen charged across the lawn, armed with an assortment of submachine guns, shotguns and pistols. Snipers aimed weapons from the second-story windows, and one gunman appeared along the cornice of the roof.  
  
Wonder Woman readied herself for the onslaught while Tagore hosed the foot soldiers with slugs. A burst of rounds picked off a rifleman armed with an old rifle. The man screamed as he tumbled over the windowsill and plunged to the ground below. Two guards hopped and jerked a spasm of death as Tagore blasted them with his subgun.  
  
Starman leaped into the air and flew across the lawn. The crimefighter in red spotted a gunman in a kneeling stance who was trying to aim a shotgun at him. Starman extended his right arm, the Cosmic Rod in his fist. He shot an energy blast at the gunman.  
  
A powerful beam punched through the guard's body as if he were made of tissue paper. He fell backward as he pulled the trigger of his double- barrel blast machine. The shotgun roared, spewing buckshot at the sky above.  
  
Wonder Woman knocked out another attacker. The Amazon warrior heard the whine of bullet whiz past her.  
  
"Great Hera," the female hero muttered as she swung toward where the shot came from.  
  
A man on the roof fired a three-round volley at Wonder Woman, but she managed to easily deflect the bullets with her bracelets. The shots bounced off the hard bracelets with a resounding pinging sound.  
  
The amazing woman leaped high into the air. The sniper was stunned by the image of brightly-clad woman flying through the air.  
  
Wonder Woman executed a midair somersault and aimed herself at the man on the roof. When she hit the man with the soles of her boots, the sniper was hurled across the roof as if he had been propelled by a catapult.  
  
Lieutenant Tagore blasted two more opponents with the last bullets from his subgun. The gunmen fell to the ground in a twitching, dying collection of arms and legs as Tagore hastily swapped magazines.  
  
More security guards dashed from the palace to attack the trio who represented good versus evil. Snipers continued to fire on Starman and Tagore from the second-story windows. Wonder Woman jumped into the air to follow the flying Starman. They both knew they had to help Tagore or he would be cut to ribbons by the guards.  
  
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman called to Starman. "Do you have anything in your bag of tricks to help us out of this mess?"  
  
"Yes," the brilliant hero replied. Starman adjusted a dial on his Cosmic Rod and aimed it toward the ground. An extremely wide beam of energy burst like a miniature supernova that blasted several gunmen at the same time.  
  
Only two enemies on the ground managed to escape the effect of Starman's blast. Both men tried to run for cover. Lieutenant Tagore cut them down with a volley of slugs.  
  
Wonder Woman flew toward a second floor window and crashed through it to land inside the residence.  
  
Chopra, the muscle-bound subpriest of the Thuggees, just happened to be in the room that Wonder Woman had smashed in to. He was jarred by the dynamic entry of the female super-hero. He quickly gained back his senses and proceeded to commit a senseless act. Chopra jumped out of the second-floor window and landed in a row of bushes at the base of the house. The hedge broke his fall and saved the brute from a bone-breaking encounter with the ground. The jump also saved him from a bone-breaking encounter with Wonder Woman.  
  
With the security force soundly defeated, Starman and Tagore dashed for the door of the palace. Starman aimed his Cosmic Rod at the door and blew it open unceremonisly.  
  
Chopra leaped from the bushes and dived into the American hero. Both men fell to the ground. Starman's Cosmic Rod was knocked from his grasp, but the scientist/crimefighter slashed a chop to Chopra's face. The Indian's head recoiled from the blow, blood oozing from a split lip.  
  
Chopra's left hand seized Starman's arm and stopped him from retreiving his Cosmic Rod that lay on the ground. The big Indian's right fist slammed into the American, and Starman gasped and doubled up from the force of the punch. Chopra quickly wrapped his left arm around Starman's neck and raised his fist. Lethal brass knuckles were now in the hand of the killer.  
  
The Indian's brass-knuckeled-clad fist rocketed for Starman's face. The hero was still held fast by Chopra's headlock, but both his arms were free. Starman's left hand deflected Chopra's punch with a heel-of-the-palm parry. His right delivered a ridge-hand stroke between Chopra's legs. The Indian killer wheezed in pain when Starman used his testicles for a volleyball. The JSA crimefighter pried the guy's arm from his neck, but Chopra immediately swung a deadly right cross at Starman's head.  
  
As the American weaved and stepped forward, the brass-knuckled fist whistled past his left ear. Starman grabbed Chopra's arm and pivoted. He bent his knees and jammed his shoulder into the Indian's armpit. Starman hauled the big man off his feet and hurled him to the ground with a judo shoulder throw.  
  
Chopra broke his fall by slapping an arm to the ground to absorb most of the impact. The Indian's legs shot up, and his ankles snapped a scissors hold around Starman's neck. Chopra twisted his body and threw the hero in red head over heels to the the ground. Then the Indian raised a foot to stomp Starman's face to pulp.  
  
The JSA warrior moved his head aside, and Chopra's heel stamped a rut in the ground. Starman rolled away from his opponent and leaped to his feet. Chopra tried to rise, but he was a tad too slow. Starman stepped in and rammed his fist into the Indian's face. Chopra fell on all fours. The American kicked the guy in the ribs and clasped his hands together to chop them at the base of Chopra's neck.  
  
The big Indian fell on his face, only dazed by a blow that would have killed an ordinary man. Starman dropped on Chopra's back, planting a knee at the small of his opponent's spine. Chopra groaned and tried to buck the crimefighter off, but Starman scooped both hands under the Indian's chin and interlaced the fingers.  
  
Chopra knew what was about to happen. He desperately reached for Starman's fingers to try to break the hold under his jaw. The American did not hesitate. He bounced forcibly on the Indian's back and the man collapsed on his belly with Starman on top of him. The JSA hero began to chop at the killer's neck. Blow after blow struck the Indian until Chopra's body finally fell limp. Starman released him and rose to his feet. He proceeded to look for his Cosmic Rod and moved on to the next battle.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Inside the palace, Hawkman and the Atom also had their hands full. While Hourman was busy subduing Prince Sonoka, two gunmen appeared on the stairwell overlooking the hall. The pair prepared to aim their weapons at the Winged Wonder.  
  
Hawkman whirled and dived for cover. The gunmen opened fire but the only mark the bullets managed to hit were the wings on the JSA chairman's back.  
  
Atom managed to hurl a chair at the killers. One triggerman cried and tumbled down the marble staircase after being caught in the chest with the chair. The other gunman quickly retreated back up the stairs.  
  
The Atom glanced into the drawing room and saw Hourman binding Ram Sonoka's wrists behind his back. Rod Lawson was unaccustomed to being in the middle of a fight, but his hands were steady when he finally drew his Government Issue Colt .45 from its holster.  
  
Another door in the hall burst open and three gunmen charged from a dining room. Atom instantly hit the closest man to him. One of the goons was thrown back into the room by the force of the blow to the chest. Another flunky was in the way and the two men tumbled to the floor. The third dived out of the way to the floor and tried to train his subgun on the Atom. Lawson's .45 bellowed and a large projectile smashed through the gunman's forehead. The CIA case officer's mouth fell open as he stared at the puddle of blood and brains that leaked from the man's shattered skull.  
  
"Thanks, buddy," the Atom told him as he clobbered the two other henchmen into submission.  
  
Hawkman turned to Lawson. "Shout in Hindi to let these villains know we'll take prisoners if any of them have enough sense to surrender," he told the CIA man.  
  
"I can do better than that," Hourman announced as he shoved Prince Sonoka into the hall. "His royal highness is going to order his men to stop their attack or I'll pound his brains out."  
  
Ram Sonoka cried out to his men, shouting commands in Hindi and Bengali. Starman and Lieutenant Tagore entered the building as the rajput completed ordering the guard force to surrender. Two men descended the stairs, their empty hands held high. Three more henchmen approached from the dining room, their arms raised with hands over head.  
  
"You see what can be accomplished with a little cooperation?" Hawkman commented.  
  
To be continued ... 


	11. Chapter 11

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
Hawkman, Wonder Woman and Tagore questioned Rajput Ram Sonoka while the other members of the JSA took care of the prisoners and checked the palace to be certain no die-hard defenders were preparing a sneak attack.  
  
"All right, Prince Ram," Hawkman began, "we came here to find out what you can tell us about Vandal Savage and the Cult of Kali. If we needed any evidence that you're involved in something shady, you certainly supplied us with it when you tried to kill us."  
  
"That's your word against mine," Sonoka replied, gritting his teeth. "I am, after all, a member of the Indian nobility."  
  
"This is the twentieth century, your highness," Wonder Woman said dryly. "Your title doesn't mean a lot anymore. You don't have any real authority."  
  
"You see," Hawkman continued, "we're acting with the approval of both the governments of India and the United States of America. This means we can use any means necessary or place you under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, espionage against your own country and probably as an accomplice to murder, as well."  
  
"You can't prove anything," Sonoka insisted. "You bastards attacked my palace,and my men acted in self-defense."  
  
"Your reputation isn't exactly pure, Ram," Hawkman said. "Your word won't mean much in court, especially after we introduce evidence that you were cooperating with an internationally known criminals. If we don't have enough evidence to make certain you get convicted, we'll simply fabricate as much as we need."  
  
"You bastards," Sonoka shouted.  
  
Wonder Woman looked at the prince in disdain.  
  
Hawkman suddenly swatted the back of his left hand across Ram's face. The prince yelped from the unexpected pain and stared at Hawkman, astonished that the crimefighter had struck him.  
  
"Listen to me, you little creep," Hawkman said in a grim voice, his expression as hard as diamonds. "You're part of a conspiracy that has been killing innocent people and trying to set the groundwork for the eventual overthrow of your own country by a criminal enterprise. Most of the Thuggees are probably ignorant, frightened and uneducated recruits from the peasant classes. They'd be easy victims for a clever con artist with some technology to make the tricks more convincing."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sonoka told him.  
  
"We know what Vandal Savage has been doing," Hawkman said, deciding to use some of his own assumptions and theories to try to bluff Sonoka. "We know about the mechanical statue of Kali with a built-in laser cannon."  
  
"How ..." the prince began, "Uh, would such a statue be connected with this wild claim about a conspiracy?"  
  
"You do not lie very well, your highness," Wonder Woman said as she turned to Hawkman. "He's a murderer and a traitor to his own country. He can't even plead ignorance like those poor fanatics we tangled with in Bombay. The prince and his minions didn't try to take us on with just silk cords."  
  
"What are your going to do?" Tagore asked. "Use your magic lasso to make him talk?"  
  
Wonder Woman reached for the lariat that was on her shapely hip.  
  
"Wait!" Sonoka exclaimed. "If I cooperate, how do I know you won't kill me?"  
  
"We don't operate that way," Hawkman answered. "We don't kill people. If you can supply us with information about the Thugs and Vandal Savage, we have no reason to kill you and a good reason to keep you alive."  
  
"Will I have to stand trial?" Prince Ram asked. "Will I have to go to prison?"  
  
"That'll depend on how cooperative you are," Hawkman told him. "Frankly you'll have to prove to be very valuable to convince us that you shouldn't spend some time behind bars."  
  
"Personally," Wonder Woman muttered, "I believe you're the worst kind of low-life. A person born into privlege can't even use the feeble excuse that he needed bread or he was trying to liberate his oppressed people. You teamed up with a vile criminal. What is your excuse anyway? Did Vandal Savage just offer you enough money to buy your loyalty?"  
  
"Savage promised me West Bengal," Sonoka replied. "He said it would be mine to rule as an independent state. I could rule it as a true maharaja."  
  
"Where is the headquarters of the Cult of Kali?" Lieutenant Tagore demanded. "You've tried to betray our country, Sonoka, so you'd better ..."  
  
Tagore suddenly stiffened, his face contorted with pain. He opened his mouth and blood streamed over his lips. The CID man stumbled forward and fell to the floor, the hilt of a brass-handled dagger jutting from his back.  
  
Wonder Woman and Hawkman turned to face the assailant. Kosti stood in the hallway, leaning against a wall. His face and chest had been torn and bloodied by buckshot pellets, but the psycho Thuggee priest had survived the blast he had received during the initial ambush. Kosti still smiled, although half his face looked like fresh hamburger, dripping crimson. The lunatic raised another dagger and prepared to throw it.  
  
Wonder Woman moved in front of Hawkman. Kosti hurled the knife toward the two American heroes, hoping the blade would stab at least one of them. Metal struck metal as the assailant's knife was blocked by the protective bracelet on Wonder Woman's right wrist.  
  
With amazing speed, the female Amazon princess rushed toward Kosti and knocked him hard to the floor. Kosti's head bounced off the floor and he was out cold.  
  
Hawkman knelt by the fallen body of Lieutenant Tagore. "Damn!" he rasped in frustrated anger. "The knfie got Tagore under the left shoulder blade. He's dead. Blade slid right into his heart."  
  
"At least he died quickly," Wonder Woman said softly.  
  
"Guess what, Sonoka?" Hawkman snarled, pointing the bloodied tip of the killer dagger at the prince's face. "This doesn't exactly put us in a good mood. You better not mess around with us if you want to stay in one piece."  
  
"I'll tell you where to find the mountain of Kali," Sonoka said quickly, fearful for his life.  
  
"You'll do better than that, Prince Ram," Hawkman told him. "You're going to take us there."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The Benares mountain range is not very impressive compared to the Himalayas located to the north at Nepal. In fact, they're rather puny compared to the Alps or the Rockies. The Benares extend across the Bihar region to the outskirts of the Madhya Pradesh. The terrain is basically rocky and hard with patches of green. Few trees grow in the Benares range, mostly weeds and brush. The environment is not hospitable to any form of life, including human.  
  
The Justice Society members, accompanied by Rod Lawson and a highly unnerved Prince Ram Sonoka, arrived at the Benares a few hours after sunup. The area was too rugged even for Jeeps, so they were forced to go on foot.  
  
"I've got a question for his royal hind end before we go any farther," the Atom declared, turning toward Sonoka. "Several of the Thugs we questioned claimed they were blindfolded and transported to the mountain of Kali in a truck. If this is the right place, how do the trucks get to the mountain?"  
  
"They have to get out of the trucks and walk," Sonoka answered. His right arm was in a sling, and he cradled it with his left. "They're still blindfolded, linked together by a rope and led by Kosti or Chopra or one of my men."  
  
"Kosti and Chopra?" Lawson inquired. "Are those the two we captured at your residence?"  
  
"Yes," Sonoka replied. "May the gods curse their souls for a thousand incarnations."  
  
"Are you angry at them because they were captured?" Wonder Woman asked.  
  
"Those two had been sent to set up an ambush at my palace in case your group came," Sonoka admitted. "They brought those submachine guns. Chopra and Kosti were so smug, so certain they could lure your group into a trap. Of course, those fools failed."  
  
"Forgive us if we don't get too upset about that," Starman commented. "How many Thugs are probably waiting for us at Kali mountain?"  
  
"I don't know," the prince admitted. "Perhaps thirty. Perhaps two hundred or more. I don't know how many Thuggee's are members of Shastri's cult."  
  
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman said. "Who, pray tell, is Shastri?"  
  
"He's the supreme high priest of the Thuggees," the rajput stated. "Shastri is a fake prophet who has formed false cults before. He's a clever speaker and knows how to get his followers to believe the most outrageous claims. Vandal Savage could never have succeeded with the Thuggee scheme without him."  
  
"Well, lady and gentlemen," Hawkman remarked, gazing up at the peaks of the Benares set against the pink and gold morning sky, "we'd better prepare for the worst. The odds will certainly be in the enemy's favor. Perhaps even forty to one."  
  
"Jesus," Lawson muttered. "I wish we'd contacted the Indian CID or the military for reinforcements. This is crazy, and I've gotta be nuts to go along with you guys."  
  
"We already told you why we couldn't call in reinforcements from the CID or the Indian military," Atom replied. "The Thuggees had at least one agent in the CID. We knew we could trust Lieutenant Tagore because he proved to be reliable when we hit the Bhowani temple in Bombay, but we can't be sure about anybody else CID might send. The army has probably been infiltrated by Thuggees, as well. By the time we could select some men we could trust, Vandal Savage would have closed up shop and taken the Thuggees underground until they were ready to start business somewhere else."  
  
"Atom is right," Hawkman said. "When they figure out the ambush at Ram's palace failed, they'll realize it's time to stop operations until the heat cools off. We can't allow them enough time to fold up their tents and steal off unmolested."  
  
"These mountains are dangerous," Sonoka warned. "Bahir Khan and his bandits roam the area. They're a dangerous lot. Bahir Khan is a wild man from the Mongolian tribes to the north. He is clever and very ruthless. His men are an assortment of misfits. Most are Moslem radicals, anarchists who once fought to overthrow the Indian government that they believe oppresses non- Hindus. Now they fight only for profit."  
  
"Mercenaries?" Hourman inquired.  
  
"The worst kind of mercenaries," Sonoka confirmed. "Vandal Savage pays Bahir Khan to leave the Thuggees alone. The bandits also serve as a first line of defense for the cult in case enemies get too close to their stronghold."  
  
"That's nice," the Atom commented. "I didn't think we had enough to worry about with just the Thuggees and Vandal Savage to deal with. Any idea how many bandits this Bahir Khan guy has in his outfit?"  
  
"At least forty men," Sonoka replied. "And every one of them is a cold- blooded killer. They know these mountains like a man knows his wife's breasts. Bahir Khan and his killers can strike from anywhere, anytime."  
  
"Well," Hawkman said with a shrug, "the situation isn't going to improve by wasting time talking about it. Let's get to work."  
  
The JSA team began the long trek across the rugged terrain. Kali mountain was several miles away, according to Sonoka. They paced themselves carefully and they had to stay alert to possible ambush every step of the way.  
  
Narrow gaps and bumpy passes ran between the gray stone mountains. Boulders lay in the path, and the great rocks slowed progress. They might also be a place of concealment for one or more bandits. Hawkman took to the air frequently in able to scout ahead of the team.  
  
An hour after the journey began, the sun began to beat down on them like an open oven in the sky. Sweat ran freely from their pores leaving damp patches on their costumes and shirts under their arms and between their shoulder blades. With her miniscule costume barely covering her body, Wonder Woman was in the best shape for the conditions. The march was especially difficult for Lawson, who was unaccustomed to such physcial exertion. Ram Sonoka had made the journey before, so it was easier for the prince than one might have thought.  
  
They had traveled almost four miles without incident. Then the sound of rocks sliding against a stone wall echoed among the mountains. A strange whinny sound followed, but ended abruptly. The Justice Society members immediately bolted for the nearest cover. Lawson and Sonoka followed their example and huddled behind boulders with the crimefighters.  
  
"Where the hell is the noise coming from?" Lawson whispered, fumbling for his subgun. "Sounds like a horse --"  
  
"Shut up," Hourman said sharply. "Keep your ears and eyes open and your mouth shut."  
  
Something moved along the edge of a stone formation. The object was a mere blur of movement. The sound of boot leather against stone rode the wind. It was impossible to tell where the noise came from. It probably came from more than one direction. Rock formations surrounded the super-heroes. Unseen adversaries could be anywhere and everywhere.  
  
Without warning, rifle shots exploded from the rocks. Large-caliber bullets sang against the stone walls above the JSA members and richocheted off the boulders they used for cover. All the crimefighters could see of their attackers was the muzzle-flash of their weapons. The gunmen were firing their rifles between boulders that offered ideal concealment.  
  
More shots snarled from the peak of the rock formation above the shelter of the Justice Society heroes. The Atom spotted a turbaned figure at the pinnacle of the stone tower. He motioned to Starman, who aimed his Cosmic Rod at the sniper. The energy blast sparked against rock that exploded. The man dropped his old rifle and tumbled from his perch with a shriek.  
  
Starman fired another blast from his hand-held invention before heading for the Benares range. The red-clad warrior aimed his Cosmic Rod at the boulders where more snipers were hidden but was fearful he might kill the men with a blast that would bring a massive boulder down on them. The JSA heroes did everything they could do to avoid deliberately killing anyone.  
  
"These guys are doing a good job at keeping their heads down," Starman growled.  
  
"We could try to flush them out," Wonder Woman commented.  
  
"I don't think they'd fall for it," Starman replied. "Probably just move to another position. Just wait ..."  
  
Two heads suddenly appeared above the boulders. Starman immediately fired a blast from his rod.  
  
Wonder Woman took to the air. Flying quickly over the rock formation, the amazing Amazon struck the skulls of the enemy gunmen against the rock. Both men were knocked very unconscious.  
  
More gunshots erupted from other boulders and rock formations. Lawson fired a burst of slugs at two or more gunmen hidden behind a stony barrier. Bullets bounced off rock, but failed to strike flesh. The gunmen scrambled for new cover while other ambushers fired down from a rock formation higher up.  
  
"Time to kick over the ant mound," Wonder Woman declared as she pushed a massive boulder that began to slide down the mountain.  
  
Two bandits started to flee for their lives. They were afraid the huge rock might hit them. More gunmen bolted from cover to avoid the falling rock.  
  
Starman spotted the ambushers and knocked them unsconscious with blasts from the Cosmic Rod. The hero from Opal City then adjusted a control on his weapon and fired a narrow beam at the pinnacle of another rock formation. The rocks exploded and another stony structure came tumbling down. Four bandits were scattered among the debris that tumbled into the gorge below.  
  
Five outlaws suddenly rose at the pinnacle of a hill and began firing a concentrated stream of rifle slugs at the Justice Society position. Bullets sang along the rock wall above their heads, but Hawkman ignored the near misses and took into flight.  
  
Hawkman moved so quickly in the air, it was impossible for the bandits to train their weapons on him. He disappeared into the sun. Suddenly, two bandits screamed and fell from view. The other three hastily retreated after the Winged Wonder attacked them from behind.  
  
The shooting stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Lawson tried to count the number of bandits that had been killed or hurt thus far.  
  
"Don't waste time with a body count," Hourman told him. "There are still enough bad guys left to attack us again."  
  
"How do you figure they'll hit us next?" Lawson asked, gripping the frame of his subgun until his knuckles strained white against his skin.  
  
"Well," Atom replied, "they tried to get us bottled in and shoot us. That didn't work so they'll try somethin' else. If they aren't in a hurry, they may just wait for us to move and try to set up a better ambush later."  
  
"They might try to rush us," Hourman commented. "If they're mad enough and still have superior numbers, that'd be a logical tactic to try to drive us out in the open."  
  
"Explosives would be better," Starman stated. "That's what I'd do. Lob a couple grenades or dynamite down on us. Either blow us to hell or drive us into the open."  
  
"Perhaps we are lucky and they don't have any explosives," Wonder Woman said. "They haven't used any so far."  
  
"Anyone can make a simple grenade," Starman remarked. "Doesn't take much more than some gunpowder, a container and a fuse."  
  
"Keep it down," Hourman said. "They might hear you."  
  
"We can't stay here," Prince Ram Sonoka told the others. "Bahir Khan and his men will cut us to pieces."  
  
"They can do that just as easily if we run out in the open," Hawkman replied. "Right now, everybody stay put and ..."  
  
Suddenly Sonoka scrambled over the boulder and ran into the open pass. He waved his uninjured arm and shouted in Hindi at the top of his lungs. The Atom picked up a large rock and started to throw it at the prince, but Hawkman placed his hand on the stone to restrain the little hero.  
  
"Let him go," the JSA chairman said. "He can't tell the bandits anything they haven't already found out for themselves."  
  
"Sonoka is telling the outlaws to hold their fire," Lawson translated. "He's telling them who he is and that he's part of the Cult of Kali. He just added that Vandal Savage wants him protected."  
  
Two rifles boomed from the rocks. Rajput Ram Sonoka stopped running when a pair of slugs slammed into his chest. The prince half turned and fell to his knees. His face was a mask of astonishment as a trail of blood hung from his open mouth. Another rifle spoke and a bullet punched through Sonoka's back and burst a large exit wound in the center of his chest. The prince dropped on his face, too dead even to twitch.  
  
"Looks like Bahir Khan and his boys weren't impressed," Starman said dryly.  
  
Suddenly gunshots exploded from the rock walls, raining led projectiles down on the Justice Society members. The crimefighters took cover. They saw little more than a few blurred figures among the stones. Starman unleashed another blast from his Cosmic Rod and blasted at least three more bandits into unconsciousness.  
  
The thunder of horse hooves mingled with the echo of gunshots. Four men on horseback charged the JSA shelter, accompanied by almost a dozen bandits on foot. The horsemen and foot soldiers attacked from both ends of the pass, hoping to catch the JSA in a two-pronged attack while they were still pinned down by sniper fire.  
  
Starman continued to blast back at the gunmen on the rocks with his Cosmic Rod. Several snipers got careless, assuming the Justice Society would be distracted by the ground attack. Wonder Woman hurled large boulders to keep the snipers from getting clear shots. The gunmen rose to get a better target and exposed themselves to the two heroes. The amazing Amazon knocked down two snipers when a massive rock exploded and rained debris on top of them. The men moaned in pain.  
  
Hawkman and the Atom battled it out with one group of attacking bandits on horseback and on foot while Hourman and Lawson defended their position from the other direction. Horses whinnied and toppled to the ground, throwing their riders. Outlaws cried out as the American crimefighters pummled them. Unconscious and injured men littered the ground, but more bandits immediately replaced them.  
  
"Hasn't gotten rough enough for ya guys, eh?" the Atom rasped as he knocked out another attacker.  
  
The diminutive fighting machine's fist exploded into another bandit, creating a violent impact that hurled the man into four other Indians and all five fell over to the ground in a cluster of broken bones. Seven others fell screaming, clutching the sides of their heads after making unsuccessful contact with the Atom.  
  
After swallowing a Miraclo pill, Hourman knocked down three more horsemen who charged into the pass, firing revolvers and cut-down rifles as they rode. Both horses and men were startled and disorientated by the strength of the strange man in the yellow-and-black costume. The animals reared up and bellowed in fear. Riders were pitched from their saddles. Bandits groped on the ground trying to get up and face the American. Two men managed to get to their feet but were only knocked straight down by the Man of the Hour.  
  
Almost three dozen outlaws charged the Justice Society position, most armed with revolvers or knives.  
  
Wonder Woman threw a boulder into the chest of a pistol-wielding outlaw. The bandit fell to the ground but a pair of small men, armed with large knives with long recurved blades, attacked. The pair were renegade Gurkhas from Nepal. The Gurkhas have a well-deserved reputation for being among the best fighting men in the world. They also have a religious tradition of not returning a kukri knife to its sheath until the blade has drawn blood. Wonder Woman was in no doubt about whose blood they intended to shed.  
  
One Gurkha attempted an overhead stroke, swinging his knife like an executioner's ax. The other swung his kukri in a cross-body sweep. Wonder Woman raised her arms to block the first blade with her protective bracelets. The other blade barely missed her.  
  
The Amazon princess quickly lashed out with a roundhouse kick to the second attacker's ribs. The Gurkha grunted, stumbled slightly and raised his knife. The other Gurkha tried to move around his partner to attack Wonder Woman from a different position. The Amazon warrior concentrated on the immediate threat first. She dodged the kukri slash and pivoted, swinging the back of a heel into her opponent's breadbasket.  
  
The Gurkha doubled up with a groan and Wonder Woman quickly slashed a chop to the base of the man's neck. With a war cry, the second Gurkha charged, his kukri held in a two-fisted grip and drawn over his shoulder. Wonder Woman suddenly grabbed her first opponent by the back of his shirt and hurled the little warrior into his knife-wielding comrade.  
  
The second Gurkha had already started his kukri stroke, and he could not stop it fast enough to spare his partner. The sharp, recurved blade struck the first Gurkha in the side of the neck, slicing through skin, muscle and bone. The first Gurkha's head hopped from the stump of his neck as blood spewed up from the grisly corpse.  
  
Wonder Woman did not give the remaining Gurkha an opportunity to try again. She delivered a thrust kick to her adversary's arms. The side of her foot struck hard, knocking the kukri knife from the guy's hands. The Amazing Amazon female followed through with a hook kick to the Gurkha's kidney and then snap-kicked him in the gut. The Gurkha staggered, dazed by the barrage of kicks. Luckily for the man, Wonder Woman held back on how hard she kicked him otherwise the Gurkha would have had multiple broken bones. Wonder Woman stepped forward and lashed a backfist across her opponent's face, followed by a left hook. The Gurkha dropped unconscious at her feet.  
  
Hourman had knocked down three charging bandits. Another outlaw executed a wild knife lunge for the American's belly, and Hourman sidestepped the clumsy attack and slammed his fist against the guy's head. The man fell senseless, but another knife artist replaced him.  
  
The guy was armed with a Bundi dagger, a unique and fearsome weapon with an H-shaped handle and a long double-edged blade. The Indian knife artist executed a rapid figure-eight stroke with his blade, forcing the Man of the Hour to back away fast.  
  
The Bundi expert punched his dagger at Hourman's chest and missed. The super-hero punted a short side kick to his opponent's abdomen. The Bundi man staggered back two steps, but did not double up from the pulled kick. The Indian smiled and nodded, apparently thinking the big American was not very strong.  
  
Hourman stood his ground and waited for the Bundi man to make the next move. The Indian hissed like a snake and made a weaving gesture with his knife. The Man of the Hour realized he was up against some sort of martial- arts technique modeled after a cobra.  
  
Suddenly the Indian lashed a kick at Hourman's genitals and struck out with the knife at the same time. The American dodged the Bundi blade and shifted a leg to take the kick on his thigh. Hourman then swept his leg out and around, slicing at his opponent's leg from ankle to knee.  
  
The Indian screamed and slashed his Bundi dagger at the American's face as he fell backward. Hourman moved his head and dipped his shoulder beneath the path of the blade. The Indian shrieked as he hit the ground. He dropped the Bundi dagger and was quickly knocked unconscious with a kick to the head by the Man of the Hour.  
  
Not far away, the Atom knocked out a bandit before the attacker could fire a .38 revolver. However another Indian low-life swung an old rifle like a baseball bat at the little hero's head. The bandit raised the rifle planning to split Atom's skull with the buttstock.  
  
The American crimefighter sidestepped the attack, and the bandit swung the rifle with all his might. As the stock struck a boulder and cracked in two, Atom slashed the side of a hand into his attacker's left kidney and grabbed the man's hair. He yanked the Indian backward to ram a knee to the small of his opponent's back. The bandit tried to alter the grip on what remained of his rifle, hoping to strike out at the American who was now behind him.  
  
The Atom shoved hard, slamming the Indian into the boulder. The broken rifle slipped from the man's hands. Atom held on to his assailant's hair and smashed his face into the merciless rock twice more before he released the outlaw. The Indian slumped to the ground unconscious, his front teeth shattered and his nose smashed into a bloody smear in the middle of his face.  
  
Three bandits attacked Hawkman. One man held a pistol and the other two were Gurkhas armed with their deadly kukri knives.  
  
Hawkman instinctively took out the pistol man first, pumping two punches into the attacker's chest. The criminal went down, but the two knife artists kept coming. Hawkman drilled the closest attacker with a punch to the chin. The Gurkha's head snapped back and the blow stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
The other Gurkha got close enough to use his knife. He swung the murderous thirteen-inch blade at Hawkman's wrist, planning to chop the hero's left hand off. Hawkman quickly moved his arm. The kukri missed its target, but grazed the JSA chairman's left thigh. Hawkman grunted as blood oozed from the cut in his upper leg.  
  
Hawkman ignored the pain and chopped the side of his hand on the Gurkha's forearm. The knife fell from the little killer's grasp. Hawkman quickly grabbed the man around the throat. Hawkman pulled hard and the bandit dropped to the sand. A boot to the head knocked the man out.  
  
Starman confronted four charging bandits.  
  
One opponent tried to lunge with a bayonet attached to the muzzle of his rifle. Starman triggered his Cosmic Rod, which he had set on low power. An energy blast hit the goon in the chest and dropped him in a flash. Another outlaw raised a scimitar, and Starman also blasted him in the chest.  
  
A Sikh renegade closed in and swung a large curved knife at the strangely- clad man. Starman turned sharply and raised his left arm, swatting at the third attacker's wrist. The knife hurled from the Sikh's hand. The bandit muttered something in Punjabi before Starman jabbed his left arm twice, stamping his fist into his opponent's breastbone and the point of his chin.  
  
The Sikh fell unconscious while the fourth and last bandit attacked with a hatchet held in both fists. Starman activated his Cosmic Rod, blasting energy into the aggressor's stomach. The psycho screamed in agony, but continued to charge. Incredulous that the man didn't fall, Starman stepped forward, raised his left arm and turned swiftly, lashing at hatchet man's forearms with the Cosmic Rod. The blow sent the ax hurling from numb fingers. The bandit staggered forward and tried to reach for Starman's throat with his bare hands.  
  
"You get an A for effort," the American rasped as he stabbed a punch into the Indian's solar plexus.  
  
The bandit gasped from the blow. He fell to his knees. Starman put him out of his misery with a well-placed boot to the left temple.  
  
Rod Lawson had managed to shoot and kill one charging bandit before he ran out of ammo in his subgun. The CIA man reached for his .45 Colt, but another Indian leaped upon him before he could clear leather. The bandit struggled with Lawson, trying to drive a short-bladed dagger under the agent's ribs.  
  
Suddenly the bandit screamed and sprawled limply across Lawson. The CIA operative shoved the Indian aside and stared down at the guy. Starman had hit the man with a blast from the Cosmic Rod.  
  
"You okay?" Hourman inquired as he helped Lawson to his feet.  
  
"Yeah," the agent replied breathlessly. "I don't think I'm cut out for this stuff."  
  
"If it was easy," the Atom said, "anyone could do it."  
  
"Hey, you guys down there!" a voice shouted from the rocks above. "This is Bahir Khan. You know who I am, yes?"  
  
"We've heard of you," Hawkman yelled back. "You used to have a lot of bandits working for you, but most of them are our prisoners now."  
  
"You guys are tough," Bahir Khan admitted. "We've fought enough, yes? How about a truce before everybody kills everybody else?"  
  
"We're willing to call it a draw," Hawkman assured him. "Of course, we need some assurance that you fellows won't bother us again."  
  
"You have the word of Bahir Khan," the bandit chief announced.  
  
"I like dealing with an honorable man," the JSA chairman replied. "Perhaps we can discuss a business arrangement."  
  
"Business?" Bahir Khan's voice seemed surprised. "What sort of business?"  
  
"Making a profit," Hawkman answered. "What other sort of business would be of interest to a mercenary?"  
  
"Very well, my funny-dressed friend," the bandit said, laughing. "We shall talk."  
  
To be continued ... 


	12. Chapter 12

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Hawkman?" Rod Lawson demanded, stunned by the Winged Wonder's invitation to Bahir Khan. "What do you want to talk to a cutthroat hill bandit for?"  
  
"Exactly what I told him I wanted to talk about," the Justice Society chairman replied. "A business deal."  
  
"I don't think I have to tell you we can't trust a dangerous bandit chief," Hourman remarked. "Are you sure it's a good idea to make a deal with this fellow?"  
  
"You said it yourself, Hourman," Hawkman began. "We can't trust him. If we just let him ride off, he might head straight for the Thuggee stronghold. Sonoka said the bandits know these hills better than anyone else. That means Bahir Khan could probably reach the Thugs before we could find their headquarters, especially if we tried to find the base on our own."  
  
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman groaned. "You're not thinking of a deal to get these bandits to help us find the Thugs? That's a questionable idea. What's to stop them from turning on us when we find the base?"  
  
"Look," Starman said, pointing at a lone figure who descended a rock formation. "The guest of honor has arrived."  
  
Bahir Khan climbed down the stony surface as easily as a man on a flight of stairs. The bandit leader wore canvas trousers and a dark green cotton shirt with a goatskin vest. His boots were made of deer hide with rabbit fur around the ankles. The bandit carried two revolvers thrust in his belt. A large knife was sheathed at his right hip, and the brass handle of a scimitar jutted from a scabbard at his left.  
  
Bahir Khan carried a pole over his right shoulder with a dirty white cloth tied to one end. He did not wave the crude flag, apparently confident that the JSA would not harm him. The bandit climbed to the base of the rock wall and held the banner forward.  
  
"I am Bahir Khan," he announced. "I come in peace."  
  
The bandit's face did not belong to a pacifist. A dark green turban was bound around his head. Bahir Khan's left cheek had been slashed by a knife, the scar extended from below his eye to his beard. His smile was confident, perhaps arrogant, and his pale hazel eyes revealed natural cunning and shrewdness.  
  
"You may call me Hawkman, Bahir Khan," the JSA leader declared. "I assure you that your white flag will be honored and we will respect your truce."  
  
"If you fail to do so," the bandit replied with a smile, "I have men with rifles watching at this very moment."  
  
"We rather assumed you did," Hawkman said with a shrug.  
  
"You have been wounded, Mr Hawkman," Bahir Khan remarked, noticing the crimson stain at Hawkman's thigh.  
  
"Great Hera," Wonder Woman rasped. "Let me take care of that Hawkman."  
  
"Later, my friend," Hawkman told her. "The wound is nothing. Had it been a couple of inches higher, then I might have a real problem."  
  
"This is so," Bahir Khan said laughing. "Injury is not new to you, I see. You all dress very oddly. Those ... those wings ... can you really fly with them?"  
  
"I fly as easily as a bird," Hawkman confirmed. "We are both veteran warriors, Bahir Khan. We do not make idle theats and accusations. That is the job of politicians. Nor do we lie about conditions of peace or terms of business agreements."  
  
"Ah, business," the bandit smiled. "Now what sort of business shall we discuss? You said something about a profit, yes? Now that is interesting."  
  
"Then let's get to business," the crimefighter replied. "First, how much is Vandal Savage paying you to protect his base and the Thuggees at the mountain of Kali?"  
  
"Vandal Savage?" Bahir Khan raised his eyebrows. "You are well informed, Mr Hawkman."  
  
"We try to be," Hawkman replied. "How much does Savage pay you?"  
  
"He is supposed to give me a hundred tolas of gold," Bahir Khan admitted. "So far, I've only received thirty."  
  
"A hundred tolas," Hawkman frowned. "A tola is only about eleven grams, correct?"  
  
"Eleven point seven to be exact," Bahir Khan answered.  
  
"That's less than half a Krugerrand," the Justice Society chairman remarked. "We can double that. Two hundred tolas of gold ought to be an attractive offer."  
  
"Very attractive," Bahir Khan said as he smiled. "I'd consider that ample compensation for the loss of my men. Of course, Vandal Savage has already hired our services. Not very professional for us to cancel a deal after we've received partial payment in advance."  
  
"Vandal Savage only paid you thirty tolas," the Winged Wonder commented. "They owed you that much for the men you lost today."  
  
"This is true," the bandit agreed, easily accepting Hawkman's logic. "Vandal Savage should have told us how well you fellows fight. I blame them for the deaths of my men. You were merely acting in self-defense."  
  
"I'm glad you feel that way, Bahir Khan," the JSA commander stated. "But of course, if you're to earn two hundred tolas of gold, you'll have to help us accomplish our mission."  
  
"And your mission is to launch an attack on the mountain of Kali?" the bandit chief frowned. "That is impossible."  
  
"Nothing is impossible," Hawkman insisted. "Some things are just a bit more difficult than others."  
  
"You don't know what the mountain of Kali is like," Bahir Khan told him. "Vandal Savage's men are well armed. They have machine guns and explosives and there are more of them. You would also have to deal with the Thuggees. They are total fanatics and very dangerous. Don't underestimate them because they do not carry guns, my friend."  
  
"We've encountered Thugs before," Hawkman said. "We know what they're like."  
  
"There could be more than a hundred Thuggees at the mountain of Kali," Bahir Khan stated. "There are never less than thirty or forty assembled there."  
  
"We'll take care of the Thugs and their allies," the crimefighter assured him. "All we want you to do is help us find the base."  
  
"You talk as if you've been there, Bahir Khan," Starman remarked.  
  
"I have been to the mountain of Kali," the bandit confirmed. "I have lived in these mountains all my life. My father was a tribal chief in the Benares during the occupation of the British. This is how I learned to speak English. Sometimes my father fought the British, sometimes he worked with them. My family has always recognized the need to remain flexible when dealing with others."  
  
"Is your goofy biography leading somewhere or do you think we're really interested in your family history?" the Atom asked, clearly annoyed.  
  
Bahir Khan smiled. "My point is, I know these mountains very well. I knew the place that is now the mountain of Kali before Vandal Savage came with his machines to dig through rock and build a tunnel inside the mountain. I can take you there, but I warn you it will be very dangerous. Some of my men will not assist us. They believe Vandal Savage has brought some sort of dark magic with him. And they may be right. Very strange things happen at that place."  
  
"Such as a living statue of the goddess Kali?" Hawkman inquired.  
  
"Don't laugh, my friend," the bandit said grimly. "I saw it myself. I am a Moslem and I do not believe in the gods of the Hindus. My Gurkhas are Hindus, but they do not believe in the legend of Kali. Shiva is their main god. They no more believe that Shiva had a daughter than I believe Allah had a son named Jesus."  
  
"Then why does the mountain of Kali frighten them?" Hourman asked.  
  
"If magic exists," Bahir Khan replied, "it is either the power of gods or devils. You can not kill a devil with a gun, my friends."  
  
"Don't concern yourself with such matters," Hawkman stated. "All you have to do to earn two hundred tolas of gold is take us to the mountain of Kali. We'll take care of the rest, including the devils."  
  
"You must think me a superstitious fool," Bahir Khan said with a sigh. "Men such as you do not believe in devils?"  
  
"Evil exists," Hawkman remarked. "All of us have seen it being carried out by ambassadors of wanton destruction and senseless death. Many of these people are pawns of evil, but there is always someone responsible pulling the strings. Maybe these manipulators justify their actions by some sort of idology that they genuinely believe excuses their conduct. But the results of this evil, the reality of it in actual practice, remain the same. So I guess we do believe in devils, Bahir Khan."  
  
"Let me assemble what remains of my men," the bandit leader declared. "Then we shall discuss business in more detail."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Sergeant Kurtz noticed a large blip on the screen of the heat-sensor- activated land-radar scope. The ex-military technician checked the location of the object and switched on the telescope surveillance equipment in that area. A radio-operated robot camera with a telescopic lens mounted at the peak of a tall rock formation slowly revolved on its pedestal.  
  
"Where are they?" Kurtz wondered aloud.  
  
He watched the television monitor, viewing the terrain of the Benares mountain range through the eyes of the robot telescope two miles away from Vandal Savage's base. Kurtz saw only rocks and sand. The sergeant patiently waited for the camera to revolve a second time. A group of figures moving along a narrow pass appeared on the screen.  
  
Sergeant Kurtz reported his discovery to Captain Tito, the second in command of Vandal Savage's security detail. Tito was a former officer in the Yugoslav army.  
  
Captain Tito had been chosen as second in command of the security detail because a number of former military personnel were involved. Tito really didn't like Vandal Savage. He despised the man's arrogance even though he paid well. But the captain really didn't like this job and he hated India.  
  
"It's a bunch of crap," Tito remarked as he looked at the eleven men on the TV screen. "Bahir Khan and his crap."  
  
Tito always referred to Indians as "crap."  
  
"But Bahir Khan has more than fifty bandits under his command," Sergeant Kurtz commented. "I wonder if the rest of his men were killed fighting that super-hero team from America."  
  
"Don't be absurd," Tito snorted. "There are only five unarmed Americans in that team, and one of them is a mere woman. They couldn't possibly survive an ambush against ten-to-one odds."  
  
"Perhaps not," Kurtz replied. "But they may have whittled down the number of bandits before Bahir Khan could kill them. After all, sir, it appears they wiped out all opposition at Ram Sonoka's palace."  
  
"Well, it certainly looks as if those bandit trash are heading this way," Tito admitted, gazing at the monitor. "Better inform our fearless leader ..."  
  
"I'm already aware of what's happened, Captain," Vandal Savage said dryly, stepping behind Tito. "But I'd like to see the monitor, please."  
  
"Certainly, sir," Tito said, stepping away from the screen.  
  
Savage gazed at the monitor. The figures on the screen were dressed in peasant shirts, baggy trousers and dark turbans. Two men rode horses. The criminal mastermind recognized the rugged, bearded face of Bahir Khan. The bandit chief sat proudly in the saddle, leading his ragtag group.  
  
"He shouldn't come here now," Savage said, frowning. "Shastri is preaching to a congregation of Thuggees. Bahir Khan was supposed to contact us by radio if he had anything to report."  
  
"Perhaps his radio is not working. sir," Sergeant Kurtz suggested.  
  
"Whatever the reason," Savage replied, "we can't allow that idiot to bring his men here during Thuggee services. Those fanatics would have a riot if a bunch of outsiders showed up. Captain, go through the emergency tunnel and stop Bahir Khan before he can get close enough to the Thugs to cause an incident."  
  
"Me?" Tito glared at criminal leader. "Why send me? I don't speak their barbarian language."  
  
"Bahir Khan speaks English," Savage replied. "According to your file, you also speak English fluently. I'm certain you two will have a nice little chat."  
  
"Bahir Khan and his crap scum are cutthroat gangsters," the security force captain complained. "Who knows what they might do? Those savages may have been using hashish or opium ..."  
  
"I'll send three of our best men to protect you, Captain," Savage said with a sigh. "But I want you to do something useful for a change. Go talk to Bahir Khan. That is a direct order, Captain."  
  
"Yes, sir," the captain said with an angry salute.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Captain Tito and three of Vandal Savage's security men marched across the dry rocky surface as the afternoon heat burned down at them. They were accustomed to the cool interior of the hidden base inside Kali mountain. Tito mopped his sweaty face with a silk handkerchief and muttered complaints and curses under his breath.  
  
Half a mile from base, the four security men found Bahir Khan and his group. Tito groaned with disgust when he saw the bandits. It was humiliating to have to associate with subhuman garbage such as these, the captain thought.  
  
"Bahir Khan," Tito announded in a hard, commanding voice. "I order you to halt!"  
  
"Who are you?" the bandit leader asked, sliding down from his horse. "You are not the man I usually talk to."  
  
"That was my good fortune until today," the captain said gruffly, thankful for the three men armed with assault rifles. "You're not supposed to be here. Why haven't you followed orders and reported to us by radio?"  
  
"My radio was broken in the battle with the Americans," Bahir Khan said with a shrug. "Most of my men were captured or killed in the fight. See how few I have left ..."  
  
The bandit chief suddenly threw himself to the ground. Four of his men did likewise. However, the other six whipped off their mountain clothes in front of the startled security men. A figure wearing a red costume with a large star on his chest aimed a strange-looking gold rod and a blast of light emanated from it.  
  
A security man cried out as the blast of light smashed into his chest. The man collapsed. The other two security men tried to dive to the ground, hoping to return fire with their assault rifles. A bandit with tremendous wings on his back swooped into the air and covered the short distance in the blink of an eye, smashing the head of one man into the ground.  
  
A beautiful woman with long dark hair stepped forward with tremendous speed before the last man put the stock of his rifle to a shoulder. The woman punched the security man in the face twice and he was knocked out cold.  
  
Captain Tito gasped in horror and fumbled for the button-flap holster on his hip. The security officer was trying to draw his pistol when a large man in black and yellow punched him hard in the chest. Tito fell to his knees, moaning in pain. The beautiful woman dressed in red, white, and blue approached him.  
  
"Whore!" Tito snarled with contempt as he yanked the pistol from leather.  
  
"Brute," Wonder Woman replied.  
  
She hit the man with a fist between the eyes. He layed spread-eagle unconscious on the ground.  
  
"By the Prophet's beard," Bahir Khan commented. "You fellows guessed right. Vandal Savage did know we were coming."  
  
"With all these peaks for observation points I'd be surprised if they didn't have spy cameras set up," Hawkman declared. "Especially since Savage had some top electronics personnel and robot technicians stationed here."  
  
"Yes," Wonder Woman remarked. "And Vandal Savage is probably watching us right now."  
  
"Probably," Hourman agreed. "But he'd find out eventually."  
  
"That means we can expect a warm reception at Kali mountain," Starman added.  
  
"Well," the Atom said with a shrug, "if you can't stand the heat ..."  
  
"Shit," Rod Lawson muttered. "It's too late for me to get out of the kitchen now, but if I survive this crazy mission, I sure as hell plan to resign from the CIA. This is too much for me."  
  
"I've done my part," Bahir Khan declared, climbing onto his horse. "My men and I are leaving now. If you fellows come out of here alive, don't forget the gold you owe me."  
  
"We may even throw in an extra tola or two for a bonus," Hawkman assured him.  
  
"May Allah bless you," the bandit chief said with a smile. "And if you die, may Allah give you a nice place in paradise."  
  
To be concluded ... 


	13. Chapter 13

JSA: Land Of The Thuggee  
  
By Bruce Wayne  
  
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox  
  
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
High priest Shastri addressed almost a hundred Thuggees who had gathered at the base of the mountain of Kali. He was leading the faithful in a series of chants when a distant gong rang twice. Shastri told the congregation Kali had summoned him into the cave for holy guidance.  
  
"The American super-heroes are approaching on foot," Vandal Savage told Shastri when he met the Indian in the tunnel. "They are less than half a mile away."  
  
"What is this?" Shastri glared at him. "How did they get past your fancy security system? Why didn't you take care of them before they got this close?"  
  
"They were traveling with Bahir Khan, disguised as members of his bandit gang," Savage explained. "I sent Captain Tito and an escort of security men to find out what the bandits wanted. The Americans overpowered them."  
  
"I heard no shots," Shastri said. "The sound would certainly carry within the rock walls of the valley."  
  
"The security men never had a chance to fire a shot. The Americans overpowered them so quickly," the criminal mastermind answered. "I saw the whole incident on a monitor."  
  
"So get some more men and go kill them," Shastri told him. "I thought you were ruthless."  
  
"I'm not sure if our security personnel can handle the Americans," Savage said.  
  
"But you're supposed to handle this sort of thing," Shastri insisted.  
  
"If my security force engages in a fight with the Americans this close to the mountain of Kali, the Thuggees will hear it," Savage explained. "If they find European security men in the area, they will demand to know why. Even those brainwashed fanatics would suspect that we were stationed nearby. That would directly connect Europeans with your cult."  
  
"So what do you want me to do?" Shastri asked.  
  
"Tell your followers Kali has informed you that infidels are coming to attack them," Savage replied. "Tell them the goddess wants these nonbelievers destroyed."  
  
"You want my people to be cannon fodder," Shastri complained. "The Thuggees are trained as stranglers. They aren't gunmen ..."  
  
"Even without firearms the Thugs could probably win against the Americans by sheer numbers," the criminal leader replied. "But it may not be necessary for all your followers to lay down their lives."  
  
"But you don't want to risk the lives of any of your security men," Shastri sneered. "And you won't be outside when the Americans attack."  
  
"No," Savage said with a smile. "But the goddess Kali will out there."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The members of the Justice Society and Rod Lawson approached the mountain of Kali. They were certain they had found their goal because they saw two figures at the mouth of a cave near the peak. One was a small Indian dressed in a yellow robe. The other was an incredible shape, seven feet tall with eight arms and a fierce bronze face.  
  
"Holy cow," Rod Lawson whispered as he gazed through a pair of field glasses at the goddess standing beside Shastri. "You guys told me what to expect, but I can hardly believe I'm really seeing this."  
  
"I understand what you are saying," Wonder Woman said, watching the arms of Kali move in unison. "That thing looks like something right out of a nightmare."  
  
"This is a nightmare," Starman remarked grimly. "Now all we have to do is figure out how to end it."  
  
"I hate to point this out," Hourman commented as he swallowed a Miraclo pill, "but it looks like the Thuggees are out in force."  
  
"There must be armed security men around, too," the Atom added. "But they're not gonna come out of the woodwork unless they have to."  
  
"Or out of the mountain of Kali," Hawkman remarked. "We may have to flush them out."  
  
Starman said with a shrug, "Guess we'll just have to get closer."  
  
"Right," Hawkman agreed. "Try to use the surrounding rocks as camouflage. We can't afford to handle the Thuggees with kid gloves, but we don't want to injure them if we don't have to, either. After all, they're just pawns of our real enemy. Religious extremists who have fallen victim to a clever con game."  
  
"Those so-called victims are killers," Hourman muttered. "I damn near got throttled by three of them back in Bombay, and I don't intend to let one of them get a scarf around my neck again."  
  
"Who knows," Atom said with a grin in his voice, "might be the start of a new fashion craze."  
  
The crimefighters moved forward, stealthily darting from boulder to boulder. However, Shastri had alerted the Thuggees to watch for invaders. Too many eyes covered too great an area for the JSA to advance unnoticed. Several Thuggees pointed at the heroes and shouted warning to the others.  
  
"That tears it," Hawkman muttered as the Thuggees charged like a human tidal wave.  
  
The Winged Wonder took off into the air and Hourman charged forward like a football lineman. A dozen followers of Kali screamed and fell to the ground after beiing hit by the Man of the Hour. But dozens more kept coming.  
  
Wonder Woman did not hesitate. The Amazon princess moved quickly and started swinging her fists that smashed into the attackers. More Thugs dropped shrieking to the dust. Two fanatics closed in, silk cords in their fists. Wonder Woman promptly hit both men in the chest.  
  
Rod Lawson did not show any consideration for the fact that the Thugs did not carry guns. He sprayed the charging horde with machine gun fire, pumping bullets into the attackers' torsos. The CIA man was too terrified by the maniacal assault even to consider shooting to wound his opponents. Lawson's sole concern was personal survival.  
  
Starman used his Cosmic Rod with uncanny precision. He fired off bursts of energy that smashed through the Thuggees. The man of the night seemed almost casual as he picked off Kali fanatics, but his heart was racing with fear and excitement. The crazies charged on, running over the bodies of their fallen comrades.  
  
Three Thugs drew close too Starman. He raised his weapon and blasted one opponent. Another zealot lunged for the crimefighter's neck with a twisted scarf. Starman quickly jabbed the Cosmic Rod into the cloth garrote to block the attack. The Justice Society warrior swiftly slammed a fist into the man's face, breaking his jaw.  
  
The third Thuggee raised his scarf. Starman pivoted to face his attacker, but the would-be strangler vanished. The red-clad hero staggered back in astonishment. The Thuggee had not leaped away or ducked out of view. He had literally disappeared in a flash of blue-white light. Only a charred patch of ground remained where the man had stood.  
  
"Great Scott!" Starman exclaimed.  
  
"No," the Atom rasped. "It's Kali!"  
  
The statue of Kali moved slowly, its necklace of skulls glowing like a monstrous firefly. Shastri stood clear of the eight-armed figure as he shouted down at the Thuggees.  
  
"Stay back, my children!" the false prophet cried. "The mother goddess herself shall deal with these infidels!"  
  
The Thuggees began to move away from the JSA heroes, and a bolt of fiery light flashed from Kali's necklace. The laser beam struck a boulder behind Hourman, and the rock dissolved instantly. The Man of the Hour leaped away from the scorched earth where solid stone had been.  
  
"Spread out!" Hawkman shouted from above. "Don't make it easy for them to zero in on a target!"  
  
The Thuggees no longer presented a threat. The zealots turned their backs to the super-heroes, confident that their goddess would destroy the invaders. They gazed up at Kali and chanted to their deity as the skulls around the statue's neck began to glow once more.  
  
The JSA members scrambled in different directions. Kali revolved slowly like the guns on a tank. The arms moved like a killer octopus waving its weapons in triumph. It extended the severed head in one fist as if using the ghastly ornament to help seek its quarry.  
  
Enough of this nonsense, Wonder Woman thought as she raced toward the mechanical monster at the mouth of the cave. The Amazing Amazon struck the robot with a solid fist and it exploded. The blow sent Kali tumbling over the edge.  
  
Shastri screamed as metal parts from the damaged mechanical goddess rained on him. The high priest slid down the mountain and fell against a lip of a stone. His thigh bone snapped, and a bone splinter ripped open flesh as Shastri howled in agony.  
  
The figure of Kali plunged to the ground below, and the Thuggees wailed in horror and astonishment as they watched their goddess crash to earth. Metal arms burst from welded sockets. Circuits sparked and wires jutted from the broken statue. An arm jerked up and down woodenly, almost like the twitching motion of a dying creature.  
  
"Lawson!" Hawkman exclaimed. "Tell the Thuggees to look at Kali. See for themselves how they've been duped by liars who have used their faith for evil."  
  
"I think they're figuring that out for themselves," Hourman remarked.  
  
The Thuggees stared at the shattered remnants of Kali. None of them had ever seen a dead god before, but they realized the wires and tubes were part of something man-made. The stunned congregation gazed down at the thing they worshipped. In the flickering of an instant, their dreams, future and faith had been crushed.  
  
Then a new expression appeared on their faces. Their eyes burned with the hatred of betrayal. An angry. primitive cry burst from the throats of the followers of Kali as they rushed toward the mountain as if determined to tear it down with their bare hands.  
  
The metallic rattle of a mounted machine gun suddenly erupted from the mouth of the cave. High-velocity bullets slashed into the charging Indians. At least ten collapsed, blood streaming from their bullet-riddled bodies.  
  
"I think we found Vandal Savage's security men," the Atom commented.  
  
Starman adjusted a knob on his Cosmic Rod.  
  
The man of the night's arm whipped forward and fired off a blast from his weapon. The energy blast went straight into the mouth of the cave and exploded directly above the machine gunners. Three injured security men erupted from the gap, along with a twisted chunk of metal that had formerly been a weapon.  
  
The Justice Society charged to the mountain of Kali. The Thuggees stayed back, frightened of the strangers who had arrived with fearsome might and the mysterious demons that lurked inside the cave. They were disoriented and confused.  
  
The Atom and Hourman were the first to reach the mountain. Both heroes were experienced climbers and they quickly scaled the rock walls, easily finding hand- and footholds. Starman and Wonder Woman flew to the top. Atom and Hourman reached the stone ledge where Shastri lay. The cult leader's smashed leg was covered with blood. He gazed up at the pair with helpless pleading in his tear-soaked eyes.  
  
"Help me," Shastri begged. "Please ..."  
  
Atom and Hourman ignored him and continued to climb higher. They heard voices shouting in a foreign language and boot leather scraping stone above them. Hourman braced himself against the rocks and extended an arm to the Atom.  
  
From the air, Starman fired a blast from his Cosmic Rod at some security men who were looking to aim their guns at the Atom and Hourman. The blast made the mountain tremble. Screams echoed from inside the cave at the top as Hourman and Atom scrambled over the ledge.  
  
Only one security man was still on his feet and both the Atom and Hourman grabbed the opponent and threw him through the mouth of the cave roughly. The other members of Vandal Savage's security detail were sprawled on the floor of the cave, rendered senseless by the terrible force of Starman's weapon.  
  
The Atom and Hourman waited for Starman and Wonder Woman to join them on the ledge before they advanced inside the cave to investigate the tunnel within. The control room was deserted except for the unconscious Sergeant Kurtz, who lay on the floor by the radar screen.  
  
"You think we got them all?" Starman inquired softly.  
  
"I don't know," the Atom replied. "If I built a setup like this I'd include a back door."  
  
"Where is Hawkman?" Wonder Woman asked.  
  
"Probably on the other side of the mountain," Hourman guessed. "Looking for the back door."  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
Vandal Savage and Lieutenant Kraven, the next highest officer of the security force, had escaped through the emergency tunnel while the rest of the security men fought the JSA. When the mechanical Kali had been destroyed, Savage realized the battle was lost.  
  
When they emerged from the opposite side of the mountain, Savage tossed a hand grenade into the tunnel. The explosion dumped enough rock into the passage to at least slow down any pursuit by the American heroes.  
  
"What do we do now, sir?" Kraven inquired.  
  
"Raise your hands and surrender," Hawkman instructed as he stepped from behind a boulder.  
  
Savage did what the crimefighter ordered. Kraven turned his back to Hawkman. The young security man quickly yanked a pistol from shoulder leather and whirled hoping to catch the Justice Society chairman off guard.  
  
Hawkman was already in the air before the lieutenant had turned around and nailed Kraven in the chin with a fist before he could fire another shot. Savage swiftly planted a boot in his bodyguard's backside before the unconscious man could fall. He kicked Kraven's body toward Hawkman and leaped at the hero who had landed.  
  
Hawkman shifted his body to avoid the grasp of Vandal Savage. The criminal mastermind managed to get a hold of the Winged Wonder and yanked hard and snapped his head forward, butting Hawkman in the forehead.  
  
The crimefighter's skull rang from the stunning blow. Savage grabbed Hawkman's fingers and tried to bend them back. Hawkman thrust a fast side kick to the criminal's kneecap. The joint cracked and Savage bellowed with pain.  
  
The JSA chairman lashed out with a punch to Savage's left forearm. Then Hawkman chopped his hand across the archvillain's right wrist. The crime boss suddenly rammed a powerful shoulder to Hawkman's chest and whipped a backfist across the hero's jawbone.  
  
Hawkman staggered back three steps. Vandal Savage ground his teeth together as he painfully stood on the leg with a dislocated knee in order to launch a boot for Hawkman's groin. The Winged Wonder blocked the kick with his left thigh, but the villain's foot slammed into the knife wound in Hawkman's upper leg. The crimefighter groaned as fresh blood oozed from the bandaged limb.  
  
Vandal Savage dived forward, both hands aimed for Hawkman's throat. The JSA hero caught his opponent's arm, grabbing a sleeve with his left hand and digging his fingers into biceps muscle. Hawkman rose into the air. He jammed a knee in the criminal's midsection and let go of Savage from twenty feet up.  
  
The archvillain hit the ground hard. Although winded and battered, Savage tried to rise. Hawkman landed on the ground. The criminal reached for a rock or a fistful of dirt to throw in Hawkman's face. His fingers touched metal.  
  
Savage smiled when he glanced down at Kraven's dropped pistol. He scooped it up and swung the gun toward the hero. His smile vanished when he saw Hawkman wasn't where he expected him to be.  
  
As the master villain started to look up, Hawkman punched him between the eyes.  
  
Vandal Savage was knocked unconscious by the hard blow. Hawkman picked up his longtime opponent and rose into the air to return to the other side of the mountain.  
  
^J^ ^S^ ^A^  
  
The battle was over. The Justice Society of America claimed a handful of prisoners but decided to let the Thuggees go. They were no longer Thuggees or believers in the goddess Kali. Hawkman wondered what it was like to actually see one's god destroyed before one's very eyes. What can one believe in after such an experience? Indeed, could one ever dare to believe in anything again?  
  
"Vandal Savage had a hell of a radio set up inside that cave," Starman told Hawkman. "I managed to contact a CIA frequency Lawson told me about. They'll arrange a couple of helicopters to take the prisoners back to Calcutta where the Indian CID will take Vandal Savage's security force off our hands."  
  
"Did you remember to mention medical supplies?" Wonder Woman asked. "Some of these people are hurt pretty bad."  
  
"They're going to send a medical unit," Starman answered. "At least we'll have some help cleaning up this mess."  
  
"Then this case is over at last," Hawkman said. "By the way, what happened to Shastri, the phony prophet who was working for Vandal Savage?"  
  
"He's over there," Hourman answered, pointing to the base of the mountain. "The Thugs -- or should I say former Thugs -- yanked Shastri off the mountain and took out some of their frustrations on him. We couldn't stop them in time."  
  
Hawkman gazed down at the battered figure of Shastri. The former leader of the Cult of Kali lay motionless on the ground. His wrists were bound together at the small of his back by a knotted silk scarf. Another yellow cord bound his ankles together. A third Thuggee garrote was tightly bound around his neck. Shastri's face was almost purple and his tongue hung from his open mouth. The dead man's eyes stared up at the blazing sun without blinking.  
  
"A bit of ironic justice," the Atom remarked.  
  
"Yes," Hawkman agreed wearily. "High priest Shastri is the last sacrifice of the Thuggees."  
  
-- Finis --  
  
Next Bruce Wayne story: Batman takes on the Bookworm in "Manuscripts Of Death." Please look for it in the Batman section of FFN. 


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